


I guess that's how I know you

by god0nlyknows



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Disney Movies, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/god0nlyknows/pseuds/god0nlyknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of course we've got time, we've got all the time in the world. But he leaves when winter comes to an end, and the clock is ticking, Zayn. Don't let it all go to waste." Louis stares at Zayn, waiting for him to say something, but Zayn has his eyes trained on his hands before him. He knows Louis is right, but he can't bring himself to say it. Louis sighs, gets to his feet, and leaves the room.</p>
<p>Zayn finally looks up, and out the window. Harry isn't there anymore, a painful reminder that Zayn's time really is running out.</p>
<p> <br/>A Beauty & the Beast AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leighbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/gifts).



> I had so much fun writing this, and all of your prompts were super fun and creative! I tried to wrap a few of them into one, and I hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> I'd also like to thank my beta for being so, so amazing. I couldn't have done this without you!

"Who's your favorite person in the world?" Nick asks as he saunters into the apartment he shares with Harry. He's carrying a plastic bag with what it seems to be Chinese food in one hand, a rolled up newspaper in the other.

Harry looks up at him from the couch with pursed lips, makes a show of thinking about it, then,"Jeff."

It's not true, Harry loves them both equally, but he says so because the annoyed look on Nick's face is worth it.

"Try again," he sing-songs as he walks to the couch, sitting beside him. Harry tries his best to keep from laughing.

"Really, it's Jeff."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Really? Did he get your ungrateful arse a job?" he asks, and swats Harry on the back of the head with the newspaper.

"Hey!" Harry whines, flinching away, "No, but at least he doesn't hit me! Wait, what?"

"Yes, dear Harold, I found you a job," Nick says smugly as he sets the plastic bag on the coffee table in front of them, and starts taking the food containers out.

Harry stares at him suspiciously.

While it is true that Harry's been out of work for the past three months, it is also true that he hasn't been unemployed for the lack of trying, so how the hell did Nick manage to find him a job? It's not like people just give out jobs for people who aren't even there to say they want them, is it?

"What kind of a job?" Harry asks. He's certain it's something ridiculous. He's going to have to dress up as a vegetable in a supermarket or as some animal in front of a car dealership or something. Do people even do that anymore? He's hoping Nick got him a spot at Claridge's, where he works, preferably at The Foyer with him, but knowing Nick, it's probably going to be something embarrassing.

"Well. I mean, you didn't really get the job yet, you still gotta go through an interview. But this group of ladies came in today and one of them was talking about how she wasn't going to be able to visit her son during the winter, and how she was looking for someone who could do that for her, work as a housekeeper or something, and well, I happened to mention I knew someone who'd perfect for the job."

Harry’s suspicion remains unmoved."What, and she just took your word for it?"

"Are you saying I don't seem to be reliable?" Nick asks, offended. Harry stares at him. "Alright, I guess she's just that desperate. And she's leaving London tomorrow afternoon, so you've got an interview at seven in the morning," he says. He hands Harry one of the containers.

"There's gotta be a catch, it can't be that easy."

"Still. You need a job, curly, my paycheck is barely cutting it for us," Nick sighs. Harry does as well.

 

 

The next morning Harry and Nick leave the house together, off to Claridge's, where Harry is going to meet with his possible future-boss. Nick needs to be there an hour before service, but Harry isn't allowed to go in before seven, when he's got his interview, and when The Foyer starts serving people. He finds a coffee place nearby, and drinks a cup of coffee (or five) while he waits.

At seven sharp, he's there, sitting at a table, waiting for--he checks the name he's scribbled on his hand then rubs at it until it fades--Mrs. Malik. Nick said she was in her mid-forties, that she was pretty, and had reddish hair with a blond streak. Harry's been to The Foyer before to visit Nick, but it's different like this, sitting at a table like he has the money to pay for it. Harry lets himself be distracted by his surroundings, by the high ceilings and detailed chandelier, until there's someone standing right next to him, clearing their throat.

Harry looks up, and there she is, a woman who fits Nick's description perfectly. Harry scrambles to his feet quickly, nearly knocking his chair back.

"Sorry!" he gives her his best grin, and sticks his hand out for her to shake, "You must be Mrs. Malik." She takes his hand, smiling like she's endeared by Harry's clumsiness (which is not really a surprise to him, Harry tends to have this effect on people), and a little bit like she's surprised, stunned maybe. Harry wonders for a moment if he's got something on his face, but then Mrs. Malik recovers, and schools her face into an amicable smile.

"Mr. Styles, I assume?" she asks as she shakes Harry's hand.

"That's me," he nods, still grinning.

They let go of each other, and sit down. Harry shifts a bit on his seat, nervous. Mrs. Malik seems approachable enough, but interviews always put him on edge. It gets worse when Mrs. Malik doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and just looks at him. Harry busies himself with getting out his resume.

"So, hm, my friend said you need a housekeeper?"

Mrs. Malik blinks, then smiles."Oh, yes, right," she nods, and holds her hand out to take the resume Harry is holding. Harry places his hands under his thighs to keep from fidgeting as she reads it. "You've had a lot of different jobs for someone as young as you are, Mr. Styles," she points out, still looking at the paper in her hands.

"Yeah, well, I am 24 right now, 've been working since I was 14, so." He shrugs. In those 10 years of working, Harry did all kinds of things for work: worked at bakeries, cleaned hotel rooms, worked front-desk at a few inns, walked dogs. House keeping wouldn't be a problem, he thinks.

Mrs. Malik hums, nods, then looks back at Harry.

"So, here's the deal."

 

 

Mrs. Malik - Trisha- explains to him that she is the one who checks in on her son throughout the year, at his place in Surrey. He seems to be quite the recluse, doesn't let anyone else come around, and he doesn't leave the house either. During the winter, she usually moves to his place because it's hard to come and go during that time of the year. But her family has decided to take a trip to France this year, and she won't be able to stay with him, so she's looking for someone to do that for her, and stay as a housekeeper until a few days after New Year’s Eve.

It's seems to be an easy job, Harry would have his own room there on the grounds, there's a live-in staff, and all Harry would have to do is check in on her son (she says his name is Zayn) and make sure everyone was doing their job properly. Trisha tells Harry that Zayn can be quite difficult and closed off. Harry has yet to meet anyone who didn't warm up to him eventually, so he isn't worried.

He's not really sure how he's qualified, and why Trisha gave him a chance so easily, but the money is good, and it's only for the winter, how bad can it be? Without much additional thought he decides to take a chance, and says yes.

Two days after his interview, Harry is all packed, and waiting for the car that's going to take him out to Zayn’s, Mr. Malik’s, house. Both Nick and Jeff took him out for a going away celebration the night before, and Harry's nursing a bit of a hangover, but he figures he'll be able to sleep it off on the ride there. At 9:30, the car arrives, and off Harry goes. It's clear to him that the Malik's are loaded and  Harry is excited about the possibilities of what the house will be like. He wonders if it'll be like staying at a really fancy hotel, and just having to be nice and make conversation to earn his keep.

The ride is quiet and the farther they get from London, the less buildings, and more open fields Harry sees.  Harry understands how difficult it must be to get around during wintertime. The roads and twist and turn oddly and he imagines it must be even worse with the snow covering the roads and all that. About an hour after he left his house, they reach the  destination. Harry had drifted off to sleep, his head against the window, and now he's got a reddish mark on his forehead from where it was pressed against the glass. He moves his hair around hoping it'll cover it, and gets out of the car.

Zayn Malik's house is bloody massive.

At least three stories high, with huge pillars upfront, all in white, filled with windows. There's a water fountain near the driveway, and the garden seems like it's been taken care of recently, the grass neatly trimmed as far as Harry can see. The front doors open suddenly, like they were waiting for Harry (which they probably were), and two men step out, one shorter than the other. The short one has bright blue eyes, brown feathery hair, and sharp features. The taller one has warm brown eyes, and a softer face, his hair shorter and lighter than the first one.

"Mr. Styles," the short one greets with a grin,"Welcome! I'm Louis Tomlinson, I'm in charge of the waiting staff. This here is Liam Payne," he says, clapping a hand on the taller one's shoulder, a bit too harshly if how Mr. Payne winces is any indication. "He’s the head of house when Mrs. Malik is away, and will be assisting you throughout your stay."

"Nice to meet you," Mr. Payne says with a nod and a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. They're both dressed in black clothes, uniforms, probably, and Harry would think everything's too formal, if they didn't look so pleased to see him.

"Hii," Harry says, walking towards them, as the driver carries his bags. It's a weird feeling having people doing these things for him. "M'Harry, but--well, guess you already knew that," he chuckles. Both Louis and Liam nod, still smiling. There's something in the way they look at Harry that echoes the way Mrs. Malik did, this sort of amusement in their eyes. It's kind of weird, and Harry is starting to question if this was a good idea.

"Let's get you all settled, shall we?" Liam says, clapping his hands together.

"Yeah, sure," Harry nods, though he's a bit apprehensive now. He briefly wonders how hard it would be to get away if he had to. They kind of are in the middle of nowhere.

They go through the main doors, and Harry's worries escape him for a moment. The main hall is one big open space with a high ceiling, and a glamourous chandelier, one of those decorated with crystal beads and polished metal rings in the middle of the room. Across the room there's a staircase with black detailed handrails that splits off to lead to two different corridors. They don't go upstairs yet, though, Liam and Louis turn left into a wider corridor.

"The left wing is for the staff only," Louis says, as they walk.

They walk past  various closed doors, which Harry assumes must be the rest of the staff's rooms. In between each door hangs different paintings; some are landscapes, some are portraits. Harry recognizes Trisha Malik in one of them, so he assumes the other portraits are of the rest of the Malik family. They're all extremely pretty, the kind of family with blessed genes, clearly.

"Which one of these is Mr. Malik?" Harry asks, still looking at the walls.

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, then at the walls. "That's Mr. Malik senior," he points at one of the portraits. "There aren't any paintings of Zayn. He's the one who painted these ones, actually."

"Really?" Harry says, in awe. The paintings are beautiful, rich in details with gorgeous lighting and color. "Why, though? Why aren't there any pictures of him?"

"It's just--he's the sort of person who likes to be behind the easel, you know? He'd be one of those photographers who hates having their picture taken, if he were one. It's complicated," Liam explains. Harry opens his mouth to ask why, but they reach the end of the corridor before he can. Liam opens one of the doors, motioning for Harry to walk in. "There you go," he says with a smile.

" _This_ is my room?" Harry asks as he walks inside, baffled for the hundredth time that day. The room is huge much like everything else he's seen so far. There's a big bed in the middle of the room, windows from the ceiling to the floor; the decorations are simple,but very tasteful in tones of black and white. Harry even laughs as he looks around because, really, this is absurd. His bedroom is as big as half of the apartment he shares with Nick and Jeff in London.

"We'll let you get settled, and be back in a bit for the rest of the tour," Louis says before he ushers Liam out, closing the door behind them.

Liam and Louis told him to look around, so Harry does. He checks out the bathroom trying very hard not to squeal as he takes in the large bath tub, and the shower. The water pressure must be unbelievable.

There's also a walk-in closet, and Harry startles when he looks inside because there's definitely a person standing there.

"Um, hi?" he says to make himself known, and the person startles the same way Harry just had but then he smiles, big and bright.

"Oh, hey there!" The person says, dropping the black trouser he'd been holding, and sticking his hand out for Harry to shake. "I'm Niall Horan, the tailor."

"Oh," Harry says, shaking his hand dumbly. A tailor. Okay. "Harry Styles," he says, when he remembers.

"I know who you are, mate." Niall smiles and he  looks absolutely delighted to see Harry. Harry remembers to be creeped out by everyone's reactions to him. He knows he's attractive and all, but this is getting weird.

"Right, well-" Harry says after a few seconds of him and Niall awkwardly staring at each other.

"Right! M'here to get your uniform fitted," Niall chirps with another bright smile. Uniforms, right. Harry nods. The driver (he really should learn his name) walks in, sets Harry's bags on the ground, and then he's gone before Harry can thank him. "You ready?" Niall says, drawing Harry’s attention back to him.

"As I'll ever be," Harry nods, and tries to smile back.

They are quiet for the first few minutes as Harry tries on different sizes of uniforms until they find one that fits almost perfectly. Harry stands in the middle of the room with it on while Niall adds pins where he needs to tighten and adjust. It’s just a simple pair of black trousers, and a white button up, but with all of Niall’s adjustments it ends up looking expensive. And because Harry has never been able to keep quiet for too long, especially when there's someone poking him with pins and touching different parts of his body, he starts talking just to fill the silence.

"So, Niall, how long have you been working for Mr. Malik?" He asks.

"Oh, for too long, that's for sure," Niall answers with a chuckle.

"Really? You're so young, thou-" Harry starts, but is cut off mid-word by Niall sticking a pin in his shin, hopefully by accident.

"Sorry, so sorry!" Niall rushes to apologize, looking up at Harry sheepishly, "Got a bit distracted, won't happen again, promise."

"It's alright, you didn't mean it. Did you?" Harry teases, feeling sorry for how distressed Niall looks and trying to lighten the mood.

It must work because Niall chuckles again, and shakes his head. "No, sir."

"Don't think I've ever been called ‘sir’ in my life," Harry snorts.

"Better get used to it."

 

 

Ten more minutes with Niall is more than enough to get Harry comfortable with him. Niall seems to like to ramble as much as Harry does. He tells Harry about how his father worked with Mr. Malik sr. and how he taught Niall the trade, and now he works for Mr. Malik jr. He tells him about how everyone is very welcoming, and how they'll make Harry feel right at home. Harry snorts at that because there's no way he could get used to living in a place like this. Everything seems so big, and clean, and, most importantly, expensive.

Niall confirms what Harry had already guessed, that the Maliks are as rich as can be, old money, or something like that. He doesn't get too much into it, and Harry doesn't push, he doesn't think it would be polite considering he's been there for no more than an hour. When Harry asks Niall specifically about Mr. Malik jr. he seems to not want to ramble as much anymore. Niall tells him Mr. Malik can be quite difficult at first, he's not used to having new people around, and that Harry shouldn't take it personally, if they don't get on right away. Though, he adds with a mischievous wink, he thinks they'll warm up to each other soon enough.

Harry has no idea what he means with that, but chooses to ask him about living in such a recluse place instead of pressing the topic. Niall just shrugs, says he's used to it, and that they've build quite the united family there already. Mr. Malik is a nice boss, he tells Harry, treats everyone kindly, having grown up with most of them and all.

Just as they are finishing up, Louis and Liam come back with excited smiles on their faces; ready to give Harry the rest of the tour of the mansion. Harry gets a bit excited himself.

 

 

Two rooms into the tour and Harry realizes the house is way bigger than he had anticipated.

There's a formal dining room, a simpler one, a library, an indoor pool (that, Louis tells him, is mostly used by staff members, considering Mr. Malik can't swim), six guest bedrooms, a sitting room, then, lastly, Mr. Malik's studio. Harry is told that, per Mr. Malik's request, he must never, ever go in there. It’s completely off limits. At first Harry isn’t quite sure what to make of it but decides, it’s whatever; people are usually very protective of their art, it's all good.

Then it's time to meet the rest of the staff. Everyone seems to share the same excitement Liam, Louis and Niall had already expressed, which is nice. It's good to feel welcome. And it's great that there are kids around; Lux the daughter of Ms. Teasdale, house chef, and Brooklyn the daughter of Ms. Watson, Mr. Malik's hairdresser. Harry loves kids and kids usually love him right back. It only takes about fifteen minutes of conversation with their mothers for both little girls to toddle around him curiously, coming closer to hand him toys only to take each one back a few minutes later.

After meeting everyone, Harry is given the house's schedule along with a map of the house and grounds. They tell him he's free to look everything over, and relax, so he heads back to his room. Once he's there, he realizes all of his stuff has been put away, his clothes are hanging in the closet, his boots neatly organized in a row as well. He sits on the bed, and bounces a little, testing the mattress. Feels nice. Expensive like everything else, of course. He wonders if he'll even be able to sleep properly considering he’s so used to his shitty mattress back home.

The sheets are soft beneath his fingertips; probably like those Egyptian cotton ones in that Uptown Girls movie. Harry tries to remember how the song from the movie went, while he gets up and goes to the bathroom (his toothbrush, hairbrush, and all of his hair products are all nicely lined up along the counter). He turns on the tap and undresses while the tub fills with water. He even takes his phone from his pocket, and snaps a picture of the tub to send to Nick and Jeff just to make them jealous. For some reason when he tries to send it, the message doesn't go through. He tries one more time before deciding the reception must just suck. He's going to have to ask someone about that later. For now, though, enjoying this luxurious bath will do just fine.

Letting the relaxation from the hot water sink in, Harry takes the opportunity to go through his schedule for the next day. From what he can see he’s not going to have to do much, apart from supervising the other staff members work and making sure Mr. Malik and the house have everything that's needed. He’ll just need to learn  when things are happening, and how Mr. Malik likes things to be done, and he'll be all set. He reckons he won't be able to do any of those things until the next morning, when he's actually going to start working, though.

He starts to wonder about Mr. Malik and the way he already seems like a mystery, how secretive he is. Who the hell hides up in a giant house all by himself, no spouse, no family members living close by? Who doesn't have pictures of themselves in their own home? Harry's living room is filled with pictures of himself and his loved ones.

Maybe Mr. Malik is weird. Like, physically. Maybe he's got two heads, or an extra arm, or leg, and that's why he hides himself. Harry knows it’s a ridiculous idea to entertain, but it's the only logical one he can come up. Well, maybe not. From all the pictures he's seen of  the other Maliks,and even when he met with Trisha, they're all really good looking. There’s a slim chance Mr. Malik won't be just as pretty. Harry guesses he'll know for sure when he meets him.

 

By the time Harry drags himself out of the tub, he's memorized the house's schedule, and come up with at least ten different reasons for Mr. Malik to be so secretive each one more stupid than the others. He gets dressed before deciding it's a good time to try and meet his new boss. It's time for his evening tea according to the schedule, anyway.

Harry goes to the kitchen where he finds Louis chatting up one of the girls he met earlier who does some of the cleaning. Louis is smirking, and the girl is giggling. Harry has to clear his throat to get their attention.

Louis looks up, surprised, then he smiles. "Mr. Styles. What can I do for you?" He asks, as the girl scurries off, mumbling about having something to do, and giving Harry a sheepish smile.

"Is Mr. Malik already having his tea? I'd like to meet him with it now, if that's possible."

"Oh! Yes, that's a lovely idea, come one, let me take you to him," Louis grins excitedly, and starts leading Harry down the halls. Harry just knows he'll get lost during the first few days, but he recognizes they're going to the sitting room when they get close to it.

The door is open, and Harry sees  Caroline standing next to someone sitting on the floor with Brooklyn sitting by the man’s feet. Her hands are on his face as she looks up at him excitedly. They're sitting by the window, the whole room lit up by the sun that's on its way to setting, and Harry can't help but to think they make a pretty picture even though he can't really see the man's face, obscured by his hair, and Brooklyn's little hands. He can hear them talking, and the man's voice is lovely, Harry thinks. He's got a thick accent, and his tone is sweet as he talks to the little girl.

Louis clears his throat. "Mr. Malik," he says to gain their attention.

The man, Mr. Malik, looks up, still half smiling, and Jesus Christ, he's gorgeous. All of Harry's thoughts of Mr. Malik being weird fly out the window along with his ability to speak. Mr. Malik doesn't have Mrs. Malik skin tone, or her eyes, and somehow what he does have is so much better. His skin has a golden quality to it, his eyes too except they're more amber-like, his hair looks so silky, and Harry is certain that he is staring quite obviously.

But Mr. Malik is staring too even as the  the smile drains from his face, until his features  go blank in shock, like he's seen a ghost or something. Suddenly it switches to a more panicked look, and he looks at Louis like he doesn't know what to do, or what is going on. His face changes again to something much harder, angrier, as he gets to his feet.

"Is this a joke?" Mr. Malik asks, he sounds angry. Harry has no idea as to what is going on, or how he could've messed things up without even saying anything yet. He looks over at Louis too, starting to panic as well.

Louis' eyes widen, and he shakes his head quickly, "No, sir, this is Harry Styles, the new housekeeper, the one your mother hired, remember?"

"My mother-oh, god," Mr. Malik runs a hand through his hair, and shakes his head, like he doesn't believe what's happening. He lets out a dry laugh, looks at Harry one last time, and storms off, glaring at Louis as he passes by them and goes out the door.

Harry is frozen on the spot, and he doesn't realize he'd been holding his breath until it oozes out of him. He looks at the open door, then back at Louis. "What did I do wrong?"

Louis is still looking like he's lost until he hears Harry's voice, and he jumps a little, quickly shaking his head again.

"It's not you, I promise, he's just--he's... I'll talk to him, don't you worry, alright?" Louis gives Harry a tight lipped smile, squeezes his shoulder. Then, he's out the door at well, leaving Harry alone with a sighing Caroline, and a startled Brooklyn.

\---

Louis quickly makes his way to Zayn's bedroom, where he's sure he'll find him. He knocks on the door twice, hears Zayn screaming a, "Go away!", but opens the door anyway.

"What on Earth was that?" Louis asks as he barges in, closing the door behind him.

"Didn't I just tell you to leave me alone?" Zayn turns to look at him, as livid as he was a few moments ago in the other room.

"Why are you being this difficult? We thought this is what you wanted. We've waited for _so long_ , this is it, he's here!" Louis says in a pleading tone.

Zayn shakes his head, staring at the ground. He knows Louis is right, but that's exactly why he's so freaked out. He's been waiting for too long, they all have. But now that he's here, and Zayn is scared. He doesn't want to mess things up, though it seems like he might already have.

"I don't know what to do, Louis. This needs to work out perfectly, I know, but what do I do? What if I don't like him? What if he doesn't like me?"

Louis rolls his eyes, and sighs. He’s pretty used to Zayn freaking out after all the time they spend together. "You know that's not going to happen, Zayn. He's the one. And, right now, he thinks you hate him, so you have to fix it."

"How?"

Louis rolls his eyes again.

"Dinner, Zayn. Apologize, and ask him to join you for dinner, alright? Leave everything else to me and Liam."

Zayn stares at Louis. He's not entirely sure this is a good a idea. Maybe he should let Harry have some space instead. He’s already scared him maybe it’s a bad idea to chase him down and force him to come to dinner.  Louis stares back without blinking. Yeah, he's not going to let this go. So, that’s settled, then. He’s  going to talk to Harry. Actually talk to him. To his face. God.

 

Zayn makes his way towards Harry's bedroom with Louis and Liam trailing behind him for moral support. He stands in front of the closed door, and raises his fist to knock on it, but freezes with his arm still raised. His heart is beating so fast and, oh, god, if he gets sick that would be mortifying.

"Just knock!" Louis urges in a hushed tone. A few seconds go by, and Zayn still doesn't knock. "Why aren't you knocking?" Louis asks again, same tone. Zayn shushes him. "Oh, sweet lord-" Louis steps in front of him, knocks on the door three times, and runs away before Zayn can do anything. Liam jumps but then follows him close behind. Zayn stares at the empty hallway ready to scream at them when the door opens instead.

"Yea-oh!"

Zayn’s head snaps back when hearts the voice, his eyes wide as he takes in the person in front of him. Zayn can't help but to feel like he already knows Harry. Zayn knows he doesn't actually know him, but it feels like it. Harry's face so familiar to him; those eyes as green as Zayn has seen countless times before in his sleep. Still, Zayn isn't prepared to deal with just how soft and plush Harry's lips look, in a shade of pink he could never quite get right.

\---

Harry shifts his weight from one foot to another, slightly nervous. Zayn realizes he had been staring at Harry for god knows how long, and clears his throat, trying to get a grip.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Malik?" Harry asks tentatively. This is weird. He was certain Mr. Malik already hated him. Maybe he's here to fire Harry already? Oh god, not now, not yet, please.

"Yes, uhm. I'm here to apologize for my earlier behavior," Zayn says. Oh, thank god. "As I'm sure you've been informed, I don't do well with new people, but that is not an excuse."

Harry shakes his head, "Oh, no, please, don't worry about it, it's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is. You'll be living here for the next few months, and I want you to feel welcomed. And I was actually wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner tonight? Things will probably be easier for me if we can get to know each other," Zayn says.The words come out rushed, like he's nervous, no matter how formal his words are. His social anxiety must really be something else, if he's that bothered just by talking to Harry, which Harry doesn't really understand, the social butterfly that he is.

Still, he finds himself nodding before he realizes what he is doing, mumbling a "Yeah, of course, Mr. Malik, I'd love to."

Zayn looks at Harry like he is surprised, and a bit relieved, like he thought Harry might say no, but he recovers quickly, his face going back to serious, and he nods.

"Great. I trust you already have our schedule?" Zayn asks, and nodding along when Harry does, "Good. I'll see you later, then." He nods one last time, before turning around, and walking the long length of the hallway in quick, determined steps, leaving Harry baffled once more.

\---

When Zayn gets to his bedroom again, Louis and Liam are already there waiting. Zayn looks at Louis through squinted eyes, pointing at him.

"I should hit you for the little stunt you pulled," Zayn says, closing the door behind him.

"But you won't. Because he said yes. Yes?" Louis asks, rather smugly.

Zayn stares at him for a few seconds, before he breaks, and smiles. "Yes, he did."

"I knew it! We've got to get everything ready. Should I call in Caroline? Niall? Get you prepared for tonight?" Louis asks excitedly.

"I'm sure that's unnecessary, Louis," Liam reasons, "It's just their first dinner."

"Exactly, this is going to set the tone for everything that comes next!"

Liam rolls his eyes. "If he's really the one, things will work out on their own," he says, clearly trying to get Louis to tone it down a little.

"What do you mean, "if"? He is the one, we're sure, aren't we?" Louis looks at Zayn for confirmation.

Zayn shrugs nervously, "I don't know! But it's the only explanation I've got, so he has to be, right?"

\---

By the time dinner comes around, Harry is a fidgeting mess. Niall had helped Harry pick an outfit (" _Please, pick a shirt that doesn't allow me to see your nipples, mate. By the way, why do you have extra ones?_ "), and style his hair. Harry made sure to get to the dining room five minutes early just to see if anyone needed his help. Not only did he find the entire table was already set, but Mr. Malik was already there too, between Liam and Louis, the three of them talking in hushed tones with their heads tucked together.

Harry stands there awkwardly for a few seconds, before clearing his throat. The three of them jump, Liam and Louis taking a couple of steps back, and Mr. Malik quickly getting to his feet, clearing his throat as well.

"Mr. Styles," he says, nodding hello. He has a small smile on his face that doesn't really sit well, like it hasn't been used in a while. It still looks beautiful, though. Harry's only seen Mr. Malik less than a handful of times, but he doesn't think Mr. Malik has the kind of beauty that you get used to with time; No, he's got the type of face that stuns each time, and makes everyone incredibly self-aware of their own face. Harry suddenly starts thinking how maybe his eyes are a little bit too far apart, and how maybe his nose is a little bit too big.

Liam is the one who brings Harry back from his musings, rushing to pull a chair out for him. Harry thanks Liam as he takes his seat while Mr. Malik does the same. Louis signals a few members of the waiting staff to bring the first course before pouring each of them a glass of wine, and backing away with the rest of the staff to give them privacy.

Harry doesn't know what to say, or what to do. He's never taken etiquette lessons yet here he is, sitting there with his boss while the rest of his co-workers watches them. Not to mention, it's all so quiet. Usually, during an uncomfortable situation, Harry would crack a joke, or flirt, and grin, but he’s sure none of those options are acceptable at the moment. He needs to say something, quick. Not just anything, though; something interesting, relevant, something--Harry opens his mouth to speak just as Mr. Malik does the same.

"Sorry," Harry says, but Mr. Malik says the same. Harry tries not to laugh, "You fir-" they speak at the same time again, and this time, Harry can't stop the chuckle that escapes his lips. Mr. Malik doesn't laugh, but he does have a smile on his face, a small one. Still, it looks so much better than the first smile when Harry came in, a more natural one. Harry moves a hand through the air, gesturing for Mr. Malik to go first.

"So. As I said earlier, I wanted to give you a proper welcome. And get to know you a little better, what with you living in my home for the next few months, and all," Mr. Malik says with a timid shrug. "Did they show you the house already?" he asks picking up his fork to start eating.

"Ah, yes," Harry grabs his fork as well, "It's a lovely home, by the way." He smiles after he says it.

"Thank you." Mr. Malik smiles politely back before taking a look around the room, "It's been in the family for ages, we just update it from time to time.

"It's very nice. And like, big," Harry mentions, trying to see if he can get an answer out of Mr. Malik as to why he lives in such a huge home, all by himself.

"Yes, well," Mr. Malik pauses, and for a second, Harry thinks he's going to get what he wants, but then Mr. Malik just shrugs, and Harry deflates. "Are you satisfied with your quarters?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely. Probably could fit my entire bedroom at home inside that bathroom," Harry says with a snort.That gets another smile from Mr. Malik. Just a small one, like the other, but it's nice all the same. Harry briefly wonders if he'll ever get the chance see Mr. Malik's smile out in full force. Or maybe it's for the best if he doesn't; he probably wouldn't be able to take it.

"What did you do before you got here? My mother never actually told me," Mr. Malik says with an interested look, which is just enough of an excuse to get Harry to start talking non-stop.

Harry tells Mr. Malik all about his previous work experiences, at least the ones he thinks that are relevant, and won't make Mr. Malik change his mind about hiring him. That, in turn, prompts him to talk about how he got this job, then about Nick, and about how this is absolutely going to save them, and keep them from going homeless, because oh my god, when he moved to London from Holmes Chapel he had no idea how expensive it was to live there. And that gets him talking about home, and his mum, and Robin, and Gem, and before he knows it, they're already finishing up dessert.

Harry doesn't even remember eating, or noticing time passing while he rambled on. He blames the wine for it, or maybe having Mr. Malik staring at him intently, and asking all the right questions, and smiling softly from time to time. Harry doesn't know which one did it in particular, but something got his brain scrambled. It still felt rather nice,though, to see Mr. Malik like that, soft, and paying attention to him. Harry considers it a win. At least Mr. Malik isn’t mad at him or something, like the way he seemed to be the first time they met.

The waiting staff comes around to pick up their plates once they're done, and Harry gets nervous all over again. Now they aren't eating or talking so how is he supposed to say goodnight?

Thankfully, Mr. Malik takes the lead, and gets to his feet, prompting Harry to do the same.

"Well, it's been a lovely evening, Mr. Styles." Mr. Malik nods, hands clasped behind his back, smiling.

"Yeah, I had a great time," Harry agrees, smiling. The two of them look at each other for a few seconds, and it's probably just they wine talking, but Harry can't help but to feel this--this thing in the air. It’s something he can't quite put his finger on, but it's almost a pull, like he can't look away from the man in front of him. He does, though, because this is wrong; it's dangerous territory, and it needs to be stopped before it goes any further. It'll go away after a good night's sleep, Harry tells himself. "So, m'gonna, uhm. Go." He uses his thumb to point at the door behind him, and nods once again.

Harry waits for Mr. Malik to say something, but he just nods back at Harry, so Harry turns around, and starts walking, mumbling a quick "goodnight" to Louis and Liam as he passes them near the door. God, he'd forgotten they were even there. That makes him walk to his room even faster, and throw himself on his bed when he gets there, hiding his face under his pillow hoping it will be enough to keep inappropriate thoughts away.

\---

"So, what d'you think? He's nice, isn't he?" Louis asks with a mischievous and excited grin soon after Harry leaves the dining room.

Zayn lets himself fall back onto his chair, letting out a breath he felt like he'd be holding throughout the entire night. He still smiles at Louis when he asks, though, because yes, Harry is nice. He is nice, and has a nice voice, and nice eyes, and the nicest lips Zayn has seen in a long time. Which, to be honest, isn't saying much because it's been a while since Zayn has seen sets of lips that are different from the ones he sees at his house everyday, but still. As far as lips go, Harry's got the nicest ones. Zayn could probably listen and watch Harry talk for hours.

God, he needs to paint, put it all down on a canvas while it's all so very fresh in his head. His thoughts are interrupted by Louis snapping his fingers right in his face. He glares at Louis, and Liam elbows Louis in the ribs, but that isn't enough wipe the grin off his face.

"So?" Louis asks again, after slapping Liam's arm for elbowing him.

"Yes, Louis, he is rather nice," Zayn concedes. And though he's trying to look as nonchalant as possible, he can't help the smile the creeps across his lips.

"I knew you'd like him!" Louis pumps his fist in the air, "Are we sure now? He is _it_ , right?" he asks, hopeful.

Liam, always the most down to earth of them all, sighs, "It's still too soon, Louis, give him a break."

"We'll see, alright?" Zayn says with an apologetic smile. He's still trying not to get his hopes up either. Zayn gets up and squeezes both of their shoulders, "Thanks for everything, lads, I'll see you tomorrow, yes?" Zayn gives them a couple of pats each, and starts making his way upstairs to the sounds of Liam trying to talk some sense into Louis.

Zayn goes straight to his studio, and starts to paint right away, more inspired than he's been in ages. When Zayn finally goes to bed, the sun is already starting to rise, and he can still hear Harry's voice echoing in his head.

\---

Harry gets used to his position pretty quickly.

Of course, he gets lost plenty of times, until he started carrying the map he got on his first day with him.From then on, it has been all smooth sailing. By the end of the first week, Harry was on first-name basis with everyone from the staff, and, while waking up so early has never really been his thing, Harry finds it is a lot easier to be done when he could fall asleep on a great bed, and wake up to a delicious breakfast.

The kitchen in the mornings has become Harry's favorite place to be after those first few days. Everyone gathers around for breakfast, one after the other, all sleepy eyes and soft faces, slowly waking up properly, each one at their unique pace. Then the room slowly starts to fill up with voices, the morning light coming through the windows getting brighter just as slowly. Then, just like they arrived, one by one, everyone leaves, off to get to their duties for the day.

Harry is usually the last one to leave, frequently getting distracted by Lou's daughter, Lux. Harry has become quite fond of her in the short span of time he's known her. She’s still young enough to find his jokes funny which is always nice. After breakfast, he typically goes around to everyone, checking if they need anything then he makes a list of things people needed from the shops, before, finally, checking in with Mr. Malik.

Mr. Malik never asks for much. Sometimes paint (and he gives Harry very specific instructions on names and brands), and canvases (very specific sizes), sometimes books (he isn’t so picky about those; sometimes he mentions a title, sometimes he just mentions a gender, or tells Harry to get whatever looks like it was interesting). Other than that, he doesn’t ask for much of anything.

Still, Harry feels like he is slowly getting to know more about Mr. Malik or at least his little nuances and random things he likes. The type of books someone reads says a lot about them, and if Harry hasn’t read one of the ones he gets for Mr. Malik yet, he tries to find a way to get to it after he  was done with it. Harry has a lot of time to read these days, what with having no internet acess.He also has quite a lot of free time, a lot more than he thought he'd have when he got there. Truth is, the Malik manor is a well-oiled machine, and seemingly works just fine without Harry. He sometimes  wonders why Mrs. Malik even hired him at all.

Weeks two and three go by in a flash. Harry no longer needs the map anymore to get around. The weather gets colder and colder by the day, but he likes it nonetheless. The landscape looks beautiful, like time has frozen, like it's been immortalized. It's all quite lovely. Harry finds himself singing as he goes about his daily routine now, only realizing he's doing it when someone starts to sing along (usually Niall).

Harry talks to everyone around the house, asks them to tell him stories about their families. He finds out taking care of the Maliks is, apparently, a family trade for most, if not all, of them. Harry tells them about his own family as well, shows them pictures on his phone, and makes sure to take pictures of everyone; he's going to want to tell his friends about them after he leaves.

The only sad part, he supposes, is that he hasn't made much progress in the getting-to-know-Mr. Malik area besides running his errands. Harry thought (or hoped), after the dinner they shared that second night, that they'd get a little bit closer, like Mr. Malik seems to be with everyone else. Harry's had no such luck, though. Sure, they talk when Harry goes to him to ask if he needs something, or maybe if they cross paths around the house, but it's all small talk, not nearly enough for Harry to know anything about him.

Harry is starting to feel frustrated by his lack of progress. He doesn't understand his frustrations, necessarily; doesn't know know why he feels compelled to know Mr. Malik, to make him smile again, like he did that night, but he does, and it's eating at him. He still has time, he figures.

Winter is just starting, and Harry wants to make sure Mr. Malik will remember him when he's gone.

\---

Zayn sits in a little table by the window of his sitting room, reading a book, and occasionally taking a few sips from his tea. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices movement out the window; he stops reading to look over and he sees Lux running around with Brooklyn wobbling behind her both of their eyes sparkling with laughter. Then, there he is; Harry, trailing after the two of them, his hands like claws in the air. He’s doing some weird faces, pretending to be a monster, probably.

It isn't snowing yet, but it's already cold so the three of them are all bundled up, which makes them walk a little funny. The way they're laughing brings a smile to Zayn's face even if he is just watching from a distance. Caroline had told him all about how close Harry has gotten to the kids, and that makes Zayn smile as well, tells him that Harry is good (everyone who loves kids is bound to be a good person, right?).

Zayn watches the three of them play around, his book long forgotten, until there's a knock on the door. Louis comes in with a tight lipped smile on his face. Zayn knows that smile, and he doesn't like it. That smile means Louis either got into trouble, or Zayn is the one who's in trouble.

"How are you today, Zayn?" Louis asks, the smile still on his face, as he approaches the table, and takes a seat next to Zayn's.

"I'm...Fine. You?" Zayn doesn't know if he should be preparing to be angry, or sorry.

"Just lovely," Louis says. He stares at Zayn for a few seconds as his smile grows, and Zayn knows now that he shouldn't be angry, nor sorry, but probably scared. "What are you doing?" Louis finally asks, lacing his fingers together, and setting his hands over the table.

"I'm,” Zayn pauses and furrows his brows, unsure what answer Louis is fishing for, “reading?"

"Yes, I can see that. My exact question is, what are you doing with Harry?"

Zayn's brows furrow even further. He has no idea what on earth Louis is on about. Maybe he’s done something he isn’t aware of. "I'm not doing anything with Harry."

"Exactly! You're not doing anything, Zayn!" Oh. _Oh._ "You need to do something, he needs to-"

"I'm well aware of what needs to happen, Louis," Zayn sighs.

"Then why aren't you doing anything? Just please, talk to him about anything, anything at all, ask him about books, or something. You know he reads everything you read, right?"

What? No, Zayn didn't know that. Why didn't Harry say anything, either?

His confusion must show, because Louis nods, and keeps going, "As soon as you're done, he picks it up. He carries books around all day and reads when he's got time. I don't know about you but, to me, it seems like he wants to have something to talk to you about, like he wants to get to know you. So please, just let him."

"I didn't know, alright?” It’s the truth, Zayn had no idea Harry was taking his books. It’s rather cute when he thinks about it.  “I promise, I'll do something, I--we've got time, alright?"

"Of course we've got time, we've got all the time in the world. But he leaves when winter comes to an end, and the clock is ticking, Zayn. Don't let it all go to waste." Louis stares at Zayn, waiting for him to say something, but Zayn has his eyes trained on his hands before him. He knows Louis is right, but he can't bring himself to say it. Louis sighs, gets to his feet, and leaves the room.

Zayn finally looks up, and out the window. Harry isn't there anymore, a painful reminder that Zayn's time really is running out.

\---

Later that day, Harry is at the library, trying to pick something to read.

He's torn between Rumi and Bukowski. He knows the difference between them is abysmal, which is why it’s so difficult to choose. He's holding both books in his hands, looking at the covers, when a voice comes from the door.

"You should pick the Rumi." It’s so sudden in the otherwise quiet room that it startles Harry enough for him to drop both books on the floor.

"Shit!" Harry scrambles to his knees to pick them up. The first thing he sees as he starts to look up is a pair of black shoes. Black boots, to be exact. He knows those boots already, doesn't even need to keep looking up to know who it is standing there.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Mr. Malik says. Harry really likes his voice; the way his words kind of melt into one another. He gets to his feet, both books in hand, and shakes his head.

"Oh, no, don't worry, I was just--y'know, distracted. Anyway, the Rumi, you said?" Harry speaks quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from his clumsiness.

Mr. Malik bites back a smile (Harry is thankful for Mr. Malik trying not to laugh at him at least), and nods. "Never could bring myself to really like Bukowski."

Harry snorts, and nods, "The Rumi it is, then," he says, and places the Bukowski back on the shelf. "What about you, what are you looking for, today?" He turns back to Mr. Malik, holding the book with both hands just so he has something to do with them. Mr. Malik always looks so poised, it makes Harry fidget (and no, that has nothing to do with how perfectly sculpted his face is and how Harry needs to make a conscious effort not to blurt out inappropriate things whenever he sees him).

Mr. Malik gives a small shrug, smiling, "Nothing, really. Just saw you in here and thought I'd say hello."

"Oh. Well, that's--well, hello, then," Harry says with a chuckle, caught off guard. Mr. Malik smiles down at the floor, in that way where it looks like he's trying not to, lips pressed tight. The corners of his mouth are definitely turned upwards in a soft smile, though. It's still not wide enough for Harry's liking, but it's progress.

"Hello," Mr. Malik says back and looks up at Harry again, small smile still on his face.

Harry should say something, he knows he should, but Mr. Malik is looking at him, and he is smiling; for some reason it’s making it so Harry can't put two words together, afraid he'll say something stupid and then Mr. Malik will stop smiling.

After a few moments of silence Mr. Malik straightens his shoulders, and the softness shifts into politeness.

"Well, let me know how you liked that when you're done, yes?" He nods towards the book and then once more at Harry, like he always does before he leaves.

Harry tries to come up with something to say to make Mr. Malik stay, but all he ends up doing is muttering, "Sure."

Two days later, Harry asks to be the one to take Mr. Malik's afternoon tea to him, so he can talk to him about the book.

As soon as he sets the tea down and mentions the book, Mr. Malik asks him to join him. Somehow they end up talking about themes and ideas and writing styles until their tea grows cold.

 

During the next couple of weeks, Harry keeps joining Mr. Malik for tea whenever he finishes a book so they can discuss it, and that feels even more like progress than getting him to smile in the library.

Harry still feels floored every time he looks at Mr. Malik's face. Apparently his brain is adjusting to recover more quickly, though, so they're actually able to carry conversations; Discussing their differing points of view on the different books they both read. Harry discovers Mr. Malik is very well-spoken, and has read a lot of books, there isn't one that Harry mentions, that Mr. Malik hasn't already read. He also learns that Mr. Malik is quite funny when he wants to be, though his jokes are a lot different than Harry's. He still smiles somewhat fondly when Harry cracks a particularly silly one, which only makes Harry want to tell an even stupider joke because that smile is Harry's favorite so far.

In between all their meetings about books over their afternoon tea, Harry gets closer with everyone else in the house, too.

Caroline gives his hair a trim on a regular basis now, and he gets to chat with her, while he plays Brooklyn; Lou has been teaching him how to cook a few dishes, and sometimes he bakes cookies and Lux helps him decorate them; Louis has the best prank ideas to pull on the staff, and Harry has fun watching Liam trying to control him. Sometimes the whole staff gets together to watch Niall while he sings, and plays songs on his guitar (some nights, Mr. Malik even joins them and watches everything quietly with a small smile on his face). Harry has also taken up swimming at least one time a day to make up for the fact that he can't really stay outside too long for his morning runs due to the cold.

Harry finally feels like he's a part of their little family, and like he knows every nook and cranny of the mansion.

All, except for Mr. Malik's studio.

Harry knows he shouldn't go in there. He _knows_.

But after he's been living in the mansion for an entire month, it’s finally started to snow, greatly limiting the activities he can do. He still has relatively no internet access nor phone service, his trips to the shops aren't that exciting anymore now that he knows everyone and every store; he's growing restless and bored.

So yes, he knows he shouldn't, but when Harry sees the studio door is slightly ajar, he can't help but to peek in. And when he peeks in, he sees no one's in there. All he can really see is all sorts of colors thrown on canvases and he can't help but to slip inside to see more.

Harry knows Mr. Malik is talented, but he wasn't expecting this.

Like every room in the house, the studio has great big windows, but its curtains are half closed, the afternoon light bathing the room in soft shades of orange and pink as the sun sets. There are canvases upon canvases filled with colors, the ones Harry had gone out and bought for Mr. Malik. He had no idea how beautiful they could look once they were mixed together. Most of the paintings are abstract; some a mixture of soft, pastel tones; others filled with angry red, and black, conveying emotions Harry can’t imagine Mr. Malik feeling. Not with his stoic posture, and courteous smiles.

Harry knows he should leave before anyone sees him, but he can't stop staring, can't make his feet drag him out the door. There's something about being in here, this place he's most definitely not allowed, that makes Harry's heart pound against his chest. He’s so afraid to even breathe. He feels like someone might hear if he does or he'll disrupt whatever unknown spell that's going on because everything about this room feels magic. It gives Harry goosebumps and makes his fingertips tingle, itch to reach out and touch.

He’s moving as quietly as he can towards one the canvases, to get a closer look at a painting, when something out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. There are at least ten canvases turned towards the wall, and a few more covered in white cloths. Harry feels the need to touch amplifying as he looks around at all of the unkown and covered works.

Harry's right in front of the covered paintings before he knows it, right hand outstretched, close, so close. He feels the soft texture of the cloth beneath his fingertips, fingers slowly grasping it--

"What are you doing here?"

Harry backs away as if he’s been shocked. He doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

He fucked up. He knows it right away.

He's fucked, he's _so_ fucked.

When Harry finally forces himself to look up, he sees just how badly he fucked up.

Mr. Malik stands in the doorway, hands curled into fists by his side, jaw set in a hard line. His eyes are dark, eyebrows are furrowed as he takes a deep, angry breath. He's livid, and, god, Harry is so fucked.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Malik the door was open, and-"

"And you just came in?" Mr. Malik asks, taking a few steps forward. "You had one rule, Mr. Styles, one rule," he says, index finger in the air though his hand is shaking. "What was that rule, Mr. Styles?" He keeps walking towards Harry, and Harry takes a step back for each one of Mr. Malik's.

He looks feral, like a wolf, and Harry can't help but to feel cornered, a prey. He's got a few inches on Mr. Malik but, right now, Harry feels two inches tall; he can even feel his body curling in on itself. It’s not because he's afraid, per se, he knows Mr. Malik wouldn't actually hurt him, but if Mr. Malik looks intimidating when he's calm, it's even worse when he's angry.

"Never go into the studio," Harry recites. His hip hits the table were all the paints and brushes are strewn about, and there's a clatter of things falling out of place, everything so loud almost amplified by the tension in the room. Harry shifts and keeps backtracking as Mr. Malik keeps advancing, the two of them walking in a circle.

"Then why did you come in?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't--I didn't mean to, I didn't mean any harm, I just, I just--" Harry stammers, his cheeks turning red.

It's already so hard for Harry to be coherent when talking to Mr. Malik when things are going okay, when he knows what he's talking about, that now, when he has no explanation whatsoever, other than he was being a nosy bastard, he's absolutely speechless.

"You need to leave," Mr. Malik says, and points towards the door.

He's still advancing towards Harry, practically forcing him out of the room without even touching him.

"No, Mr. Malik, please, you need to understand," Harry tries to plead, tries to reason with him, he's sure he can find something to say, a way to explain, if Mr. Malik would just--

"Leave!" He all but roars now, gets right in Harry's face, effectively shutting him up.

Harry turns and leaves the room as quickly as his feet will carry him, the loud bang of the studio door closing echoing behind him.

Harry all but runs towards his room.

He needs to leave.

Mr. Malik will probably fire him after what just happened, so he might as well make a run for it now without having to face him again. His heart is still pounding in his chest and he can hear it in his ears too, _thud-thud-thud_ , louder than his own steps on the marble floor. His eyes are pricking with tears and he rubs them away with the backs of his hands before they get a chance to fall.

The walk towards the staff wing of the house has never seemed longer. Bloody huge house. Bloody Mr. Malik, with his stupid perfect face, and his stupid secret studio.

Harry rushes past Louis just as he is coming out of Eleanor's (the girl Harry found Louis flirting with when he first got there, they have a thing, apparently) room. Louis is smiling at first, smirking, more like, until he takes one look at Harry's face. Then, his eyes go wide, eyebrows so high, they disappear under his fringe.

"Harry, what's wrong?" He gasps, like he's mortified to see Harry walking so fast with his cheeks flushed and hair dishevled. Harry shakes his head and keeps walking, feeling his eyes watering again at the prospect of having to explain. "What happened?" Louis asks again, coming after Harry but Harry just walks faster, sniffling and closing his door firmly behind him when he gets in his room.

Louis calls after him, bangs on the door. Harry ignores him, though. He goes straight to the closet to pack his stuff. He just needs to leave.

Harry takes one of his bags and stuffs some of his clothes in it. He doesn't even see what he's picking out. It doesn't matter, he'll just ask Niall to send the rest of it later, or something. He's sorry he won't have time to say goodbye to anyone but he figures he can just write them a letter, maybe. That'll have to do.

The banging on the door has stopped by the time Harry is done so he just puts on a thick coat, throws his bag over his shoulder, and leaves as quickly, and quietly as he can.

\---

This was a bad idea.

Jesus Christ, Harry did not think this through.

It’s dark, cold and fucking snowing. Harry is walking towards god knows where because he can’t actually see much, apart from how his phone's flashlight reaches. He can see a tiny sparkle up ahead, probably a light from one of the neighbors but even that seems to be so far away.

Harry is going to die.

He's certain of it; he's going to freeze to death, they'll only find his body in the morning; if the snow doesn't manage to cover him up, that is.

He should go back.

Facing Mr. Malik's wrath is better then dying all alone in the snow, he figures.

Just as he's about to turn back, Harry hears tires moving through the snow, and headlights blind him. He's saved, thank goodness. Whoever is driving has got to take pity on him, and give him a ride to the nearest bus stop, train station, nearest _something_.

Harry sticks his thumb up, asking for a ride. He waves his lit up phone in the air just in case the person driving hasn't seen him yet and lets out a relieved sigh as the driver slows down. He walks towards the car to meet it halfway, but the closer he gets, the more familiar the car looks. And then it hits him.

It's the Malik family car.

Harry stops walking, unsure if he should just say thanks and resume his walk towards death. That’s if they’re willing to give him a ride, maybe it's just someone who was sent to drag him back to the house. He decides to stay put. It's probably just Louis, with him being the last one to see him back at the house, and looking so worried. If it is him, Harry knows he will most likely to be able to get a ride into town.

Except the car door opens, and the person climbing out of the car is most definitely not Louis. It isn't anyone from the rest of the staff, either. No, it's Mr. Malik himself.

Harry stares, completely caught off guard.

"When I told you to leave, I didn't mean for you to leave the _house_ , are you trying to get yourself _killed_?" Mr. Malik says as he steps out of the car. He sounds just as angry as he had at the studio.

Great, he probably came to scream at Harry some more.

"Did you come after me just so you could scream at me?" Harry asks.He’s assuming he’s already been fired so talking back couldn't possibly do more harm.

Mr. Malik stops in his tracks and actually flinches. It kind of makes Harry flinch too; not because he's afraid of retaliation but because of the way Mr. Malik's eyes go wide. It’s like he's appalled by Harry’s reaction. His brows furrow right after as his face shifts into a pained expression.

Mr. Malik shakes his head at the ground, "No, I'm, I--" he huffs out a breath, and shakes his head again, "God, it's bloody freezing, can't you just get in the car, where it's warm?"

"Why did you come after me?" Harry still insists, as tempting as the thought of a nice, warm car is.

"Because I was worried about you!" The words blurt out of Mr. Malik, like he didn't actually plan on saying any of them, but couldn't keep them in. Mr. Malik seems to realize what he's done because he takes a deep breath and straightens his back, looking up at Harry with big, pleading eyes. "Mr. Styles-- _Harry_ , please."

If Harry had any intentions to deny Mr. Malik, and to continue on the path to death by frostbite just out of spite, it all melts away at how his name rolls off Mr. Malik's tongue. He finds himself nodding and walking to the car, sliding into the passenger seat as Mr. Malik gets in on the other side.

The car is warm, like Mr. Malik promised. Harry's whole body shudders in delight, his muscles slowly relaxing, an audible sigh escaping his lips. Mr. Malik turns up the heater and shifts in his seat. He's shivering too, Harry notices, and is still wearing the same clothes from before, didn't even put a coat over the black cardigan he was wearing. Maybe he didn't bother to put a coat on because he thought he wouldn't need to leave the car or maybe he forgot to grab one in his haste to go after Harry. The latter thought makes something warm coil in Harry’s stomach, and he tries not to squirm in his seat.

"Firstly, I feel like I owe you an apology," Mr. Malik offers. He's pulling on a loose thread at the edge of his seat, looking at it intently. "As much as what you did was wrong, it was also wrong of me to react the way I did. So for that, I apologize."

"I, no, I shouldn't have, they told me, Louis, or Liam, on the very first day, and I did it anyway, and I'm really, really sorry," Harry rambles, because he always does, especially when he's nervous like this.

Mr. Malik only nods, once.

"Apology accepted," he says, and takes another deep breath as though he’s trying to choose his words. "Secondly-- Well, it's obvious you do not wish to keep your current position, what with you leaving, but I'd really like it if you could reconsider."

Mr. Malik is still not looking at Harry, so he misses the way Harry blinks at him, surprised.

"You'd take me back? Even after what I did?"

"If you're willing to return, yes, of course."

Harry blinks at him, twice. He was so sure he had screwed everything up.

"You don't need to, we won't make you pay for breaking the contract or--I'll just, I'll drive you to the train station." Mr. Malik shakes his head and shifts so he's facing the steering wheel, putting his seat-belt on.

"Oh, no, no, you can--we can go back. I want to stay," Harry says, sounding a bit more panicked then he'd like.

Mr. Malik stops, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the ignition. Slowly, finally, he looks at Harry. He seems stunned but not unpleasantly so. His eyes are wide and the corners of his mouth curve upwards just a tiny bit. "You want to stay?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Malik looks at Harry and there's something in his eyes Harry can't quite explain but it gives him the same feeling he had while in the studio, the one that made him afraid to breathe. He holds his breath, again, and stares right back until Mr. Malik looks down. He bites his lip to hold back a smile and Harry's eyes track the movement before he can stop himself.

By the time Mr. Malik looks back at the road, Harry's heart is beating loudly again and he's a little dizzy; whether it's from holding his breath for too long or for whatever it is that just happened. Either way, he's thankful for the loud purr of the car engine starting to muffle the sound of the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh. Harry shifts in his seat to put his seat-belt on as well and stares straight ahead as Mr. Malik maneuvers the car around carefully on the icy road.

They ride in silence even though Harry can't stop fidgeting. He keep stealing looks at Mr. Malik, trying to be discreet but most certainly failing. Mr. Malik smiles, _the you're silly, but I still find you entertaining fond smile_ , the one Harry likes best.

Harry most definitely does not blush.

They run inside as soon as they get to the house, trying to escape the snow and the cold. The entire house is quiet, everyone already in their beds, probably. They stop by the stairs where they need to part ways, Mr. Malik going upstairs, and Harry towards the staff’s wing.

Mr. Malik is nodding like he always does before he leaves but Harry can't let him go just yet, not without saying anything.

"Um. Mr. Malik," Harry calls out when Mr. Malik has a foot on the third step, "Thank you. For coming after me and giving me another chance and all."

"Thank you for coming back," Mr. Malik says. Harry uses the excuse of having to walk away to hide his smile. "And, hm. You may call me Zayn, if you'd like," Mr. Malik, well, Zayn, calls after him. Harry looks back at him, surprised; his heart skipping a beat at the permission so suddenly granted.

Harry can't hide his grin anymore as he says, "Well, goodnight, Zayn," tasting the name on his tongue. He likes the way it sounds, the way it feels when he says it.

Zayn must like it too because he smiles at Harry, not courteously, or fondly this time. No, this one is a new smile; one with squinty eyes and crinkled nose.It’s already Harry's new favorite. He stores it away until he can come up with a category for it.

"Goodnight, Harry," Zayn says, still smiling before he resumes his walk up the stairs.

Harry smiles all the way back to his room.

\---

Something breaks between them after that night.

Harry can’t pinpoint exactly how but something definitely did break. He didn't even notice it while it happened, only realized when it was right there, staring him in the face.

It starts with the books.

Instead of making Harry look for whichever book he has read for the past few days, Zayn goes after Harry to deliver it to him, himself. Zayn doesn’t always hand it straight to Harry in the beginning.

At first, he gives the book to Louis or Liam; one time, he even sends it through Caroline and Brooklyn (which Harry thinks is adorable). Then later, Zayn leaves the book somewhere where he knows Harry will find it. Sometimes he leaves it by Harry's door, sometimes on the backseat of the car, when he knows Harry will have to go out for groceries. One time, Harry even finds one on his usual seat at the breakfast table. That  time is definitely his favorite because it means Zayn had to ask someone where Harry sits usually. He must have left it there either before going to bed or before everyone else woke up. Either way, it means he thought of Harry before he fell asleep or as soon as he woke up and that's why Harry likes it so much.

He knows he shouldn't let himself get this excited but it happens before he knows it; the swoop in his belly, his hands twitching, an antsy feeling he gets just to be done with all of his chores so he can sit down and read. Maybe because he knows when he's done, he can go after Zayn and they can talk about it. Each time they meet their talks ramble on and on; they always start with the book but it end up somewhere else.

Slowly, Zayn starts opening up to Harry.

He tells Harry about his family, the names of his sisters, and what they all do. Of course Zayn doesn't just blurt out the information at random but he answers most of the questions Harry asks him. And his face, god, his face lights up so prettily when he talks about his family, Harry is in awe just watching. Even though Zayn's told Harry he hasn't seen most of his family in awhile, each story he tells is filled with fondness. Harry can't even believe all the weird theories he had come up for Zayn when he first arrived at the Malik manor especially when he looks at Zayn's crinkly smile.

From just being with him, Harry already knows Zayn to be such a genuinely nice and caring person. So Harry still doesn't understand why on earth Zayn hides up in this house, far away from everything and everyone he knows. One day he even asks Zayn as much but Zayn just shrugs with a sigh. "It's complicated," he says. Harry doesn’t push, afraid Zayn will close off from him but then Zayn says, "One day, I'll tell you about it," and Harry gets a little hopeful.

"Promise?" Harry asks.

Zayn nods and smiles softly, like they have all the time in the world, "Promise."

Then Harry, being Harry, grins as asks, "Pinky promise?" while sticking his pinky out.

Zayn looks at his finger then back at him and rolls his eyes, "I'm not doing that," he says, shaking his head. But Zayn is also doing a very poor job at biting back a smile, so Harry doesn’t care.

Damn, does he love it when Zayn smiles.

\---

It's a slow Sunday afternoon when Harry finds the first note.

He doesn't work Sundays, no one at the manor really does except when it's time to cook the meals (even then, it's a team effort; they take turns running the kitchen). Harry's plan for the day is to sleep as much as possible, go for a swim, eat, then sleep some more.

When Harry gets to the indoor swimming pool area, he's thinking about the wonders of heated floors, and artificial heating all around. He can only imagine how cold it must be outside but he thinks he's got an idea when he can see how gray everything is when he looks out the windows. The trees shake with how hard the wind is blowing. Harry makes a note to try to call Nick and Jeff later to make sure they paid all their bills and that they haven't frozen to death yet in their apartment.

Harry is going to miss this house so much when he's gone.

Harry is about to drop his towel on one of the lounger chairs when he sees a book already waiting for him there. He's smiling before he can tell his face to stop. Harry doesn't pick the book up right away, though. He wants to save it for when he's cozy in bed. For now, he drops his towel over the lounger, takes off his shirt, and gets into the pool.

He does a few laps then just floats around for a bit before getting out. He dries himself off and makes sure his hands are extra dry before picking up the book and heading back towards his room.

Once there, Harry sets the book on his night stand, showers, puts on his softest sweatpants and then he settles down on the bed.

The book is called "Blindness", by Jose Saramago and the back cover says it's about a blindness epidemic that spreads wildly with an analysis how society would behave in it’s darkest of times. Harry rests his back on a few of his pillows propped against the headboard, opening the book.

And that's when he sees it.

A note; just a small piece of paper folded in half but Harry's heart skips a beat at the discovery. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe Zayn forgot he had it there. Maybe it was just a piece of paper he was using so he wouldn't lose his place in the book. Harry picks it up and opens it. Inside, in neat, cursive writing, there's a message. For Harry.

_I highlighted a few parts for you, ones I thought you might like._ _Hope you enjoy it._

 _Z. M_.

Harry's heart beats faster as he reads the words over and over.

It's nothing, really. Or that's what Harry tries to tell himself but he doesn't quite believe it because it feels like something. Zayn read this book and he thought of Harry as he did. He read those words and thought, 'Hey, this will probably make Harry smile,' or, 'Harry will appreciate this'. It's just--it has to mean something, he thinks.

Doesn't it?

Harry looks at the note and reads it again. Zayn's handwriting is so pretty. It's symmetric but there are a few flourishes here and there, on the capital letters in particular, and on the f’s, p's, and i's. It’s contained but beautiful just like Zayn is.

God, he needs to stop. He's about to start waxing poetic about someone's handwriting. His _boss_ ' handwriting. Harry makes a mental note to ask the guys of the house if they ever did this with Zayn, this book-club-type-thing. And then, depending on the answer, he'll call Nick and ask what all of this could possibly mean. But first, he's going to read. He can hardly wait to get to the highlighted parts.

\---

The idea of highlighting passages of the books came to Zayn when he was almost asleep one night.

Zayn does that, sometimes; thinks in circles until he's either got a migraine, or has tired himself out completely. He knew he needed to do something and fast. But he had no idea what.

Harry's been on his mind for a long time now, always haunting his dreams. That was all it was before, dreams. And now, now it’s different. It’s real, palpable but Zayn knows his time is running out. December has quickly caught up with them and soon enough, Harry will be leaving.

Harry is so different from him, always so amicable and open. Zayn had been that way once but that was a long time ago; he's got no idea how to be that way again. He doesn't always know what to say, doesn't trust himself to say everything that comes to mind without making a fool of himself. Unlike Harry, of course, who stumbles through his sentences, or stops abruptly because he forgets what he is saying; like his brain moves too fast before his mouth can organize the words.

Zayn always listens, though, reminds Harry of what he was talking about, and let him finish his story, even if it takes twice as long for him to finish, as it would for anyone else to say the same thing. Harry always smiles when he does, this shy little thing because he forgets about his tendency to ramble and gets embarrassed when he realizes what he's been doing. It was always worth it, though, to see Harry smile like that.

It's ridiculous, really, how enamored he is with Harry, in such a short time. But then again, well. That's probably because of how important Harry is to Zayn without even knowing it. Zayn wonders if Harry feels the same way because of that, too. He hopes Harry does.

And laying in bed that night before the first note, he knew he needed to show Harry how he feels and find out how Harry feels about him in return. Not only for himself, but for the others, too.

The biggest thing he has in common with Harry, lately, are the books they shared. And that's when it hit him. If he couldn't trust himself to find the words to tell Harry what he needed to say, Zayn could use someone else's. Then he would be able to gauge Harry's reaction from there. If it looked like Harry liked it, then he'd do it again. Zayn would start with small things, subtle, then work his way up.

Zayn drifted to sleep already thinking about what the first passage would be.

\---

Harry goes after Zayn with the book two days later.

It usually takes him a little longer to read an entire book depending on its length but he just couldn't bring himself to put this one down. It was interesting, of course but, also, for the highlighted parts. Harry had never been so excited to read something before; it was like being on a treasure hunt--going through the pages, looking for different clues. Before he knew it, he'd read the whole thing. Harry wasn’t sure what the treasure really was for finishing the book but if he had to guess, he’d say the prize is Zayn.

Well, not really Zayn, but his mind. The treasure is being able to know Zayn even better. Being able to poke right into his thoughts. To Harry, those highlighted  sentences were like pieces of a puzzle he was putting together because, for whatever reason, Zayn thought they were more special than others. Zayn wanted Harry to pay more attention to them.

“ _The difficult thing isn't living with other people, it's understanding them._ ”

_“...it's time that rules, time is our gambling partner on the other side of the table and it holds all the cards of the deck in its hands, we have to guess the winning cards of life, our lives.”_

_“...sometimes the nerves that cannot bear it it any longer, they put up with a great deal, they put up with everything, it was as if they were wearing armour, we might say.”_

Those are just a few from all the passages Zayn highlighted in the first book. Harry wrote them all down in his journal to keep them safe and read them again whenever he wants to.

The very last one was the one that sticks with Harry the most, though.

_“Inside us there is something that has no name, that something is what we are.”_

Harry doesn’t know why that is the one he can’t stop thinking about. Well, actually, he has an idea but that one involves a lot of wishful thinking and that’s dangerous territory so he tries not to think about it too much.

Harry goes into the study with Zayn's afternoon tea, some pastries and the book on a platter. Zayn is sitting by the window, sketch book in hand. He moves the pencil swiftly over the surface drawing something he must see outside. Caroline dragging Brooklyn on a sleigh, Harry can see it too once he gets close enough.

Zayn doesn't even flinch as Harry sets the platter on the table in front of him, like he was already expecting Harry to drop by. He probably was, one could set the time by how well everything in the manor functions.

"So," Harry says, pulling a chair out for himself and sitting down. When he first got to the Malik manor, he couldn't even imagine looking at Zayn's face for too long, now he's joining him without asking for permission. Who would've thought.

"So," Zayn repeats, still sketching. Even his profile is fucking gorgeous; this really isn't fair.

"I read the book."

Zayn hums and nods. "And?"

"I really liked it. Think it was really intense, and kinda scary and sad, sometimes, but I liked it."

"I figured you would," Zayn smiles, the soft one, and glances up at Harry quickly, before looking back at his sketchbook.

"And I was thinking," Harry starts, pausing to pick up one the pastries for himself (which, obviously, is a mistake, because it gives Zayn time to sarcastically say, "Oh no"). "I was thinking," Harry says, again, with a stern look that makes Zayn snort at him, "That I should be the one to pick the next book."

"Really? And why is that?" Zayn asks and shifts in his seat so he's facing Harry full on.

"Because then I could pick the best parts for you."

"Oh." Zayn's eyebrows shoot up a bit like he's surprised. Then he schools his face into his usual controlled expression. He turns a page of the sketchbook to start a new drawing and nods as he starts drawing again. "Well, alright, then. I'll be waiting." He looks at Harry with a smile, his eyes lingering on Harry's face for a bit longer than usual.

Harry can feel his face heating up under his gaze but he doesn't look away, keeps looking back at Zayn. He just hopes his own face isn't doing anything weird. He might be blushing but that isn't weird not when someone as fit as Zayn is looking directly at him.

Zayn's eyes dart back down to his sketchpad after a few moments and Harry feels like he can finally breathe again. When he looks at Zayn's lap, where his sketchbook is, Harry sees a familiar mop of curls beginning to appear on the empty page and his heart does that stupid thing where it skips a beat.

"Are you drawing me?"

"I might be," Zayn shrugs.

"Why?"

Zayn shrugs again then looks up at Harry. "Why not?" He asks with a grin, as if daring Harry to come up with a reason. Harry can't really find one, but he shifts in his seat.

"Do I just sit here, then?"

"Yes. You can talk if you want to, though."

Harry hums but doesn't say anything, not yet. Zayn keeps looking at him from time to time and it's distracting. Even though it feels good to have Zayn's attention on him, Harry also feels a bit self-conscious. It makes him wish he could see what Zayn's seeing when he looks at him. Does he find Harry at least a little bit attractive? Does he think Harry's forehead is too big? Does he mind the little moles and freckles on Harry's face?

Thinking about all the bad things Zayn might be seeing in him is making Harry nervous and when he's nervous, he fidgets. Harry focuses on something else, instead. On Zayn, actually. More precisely, Zayn's hands. Zayn's got pretty hands that match his pretty everything else. His nails are always well cared for; clean and short. There's a tattoo of a bird on the back one of them and something that looks like a mandala or a flower on the back of the other. The detailing is beautiful on the latter tattoo, shaded gorgeously. The faded ink on both of them suggests they were done awhile ago.

Harry wonders if Zayn actually left the house to get them or if he got a tattoo artist to visit him. He also wonders if Zayn's got more tattoos and, if so, where. Harry's never seen Zayn without a henley or a sweater so it's kind of hard to tell.

"You're awfully quiet today," Zayn mentions after Harry has been lost in his thoughts for a bit. "Everything alright?"

Harry blinks, focuses on Zayn's face again. "Oh, no, yeah, I'm alright. Just thinking."

"Twice in one day?" Zayn gasps, feigning shock. Harry stares at him, as if to say really? and Zayn's eyes go all crinkly with a smile, like he's saying _you know I'm just teasing_. "Care to share what you were thinking about?" He asks, in lieu of apologizing for the teasing.

You, Harry thinks but doesn't dare say out loud. "I don't know. About the book," He says instead.

"What about the book?"

"Everything, I guess. How awful mankind can be. And how amazing it is, too. The ways people find to survive, the things they do, how relationships are forged. I don't know. It was a lot."

Zayn hums and nods thoughtfully. "That's why I like that book. It taps into so many issues. Makes you think," he says while still drawing. "What do you think you'd do if you woke up blind one day?"

"Well," Harry chuckles, "don't know how long I'd be able to survive as a blind man. Can barely walk in a straight line safely with two perfectly good eyes, I'd probably end up falling into a ditch or something."

Zayn laughs and shakes his head, "You're awful."

"It's all part of my charm, I reckon."

"If you say so." Zayn rolls his eyes but he's smiling in that slightly fond way of his. It makes Harry think Zayn agrees with him on that one even if it's just a tiny bit.

"You've got a great jawline," Zayn says out of the blue and Harry blinks a couple of times, wondering if he's missed some part of the conversation.

"What?"

"Your jawline. It's a good one," Zayn repeats but keeps his eyes trained on his sketchbook.

"Oh," Harry laughs, his facing heating up again, "Don't think I've ever been complimented on it."

"What do people usually compliment you on, then?"

"The color of my eyes, I guess. Sometimes my smile. My mouth," Harry shrugs modestly. Even if Zayn's whole being makes him feel a bit inadequate, Harry knows what he looks like. He knows people like the green of his eyes and how his dimples pop when he smiles and the coloring and shape of his lips. People sometimes compliment other things like his arms and thighs or even his arse but that doesn't seem like something he should say right now.

Zayn's eyes snap back to Harry's face while he speaks, focusing on his eyes then his mouth.

It makes something hot run through Harry's body, his mouth suddenly dry. He licks his lips without even thinking and Zayn's gaze grows sharper still. Harry realizes he doesn't mind all that much, having Zayn looking at him so intently. He watches Zayn, as Zayn watches him, until suddenly the spell is broken, and Zayn looks back down at his sketchbook.

"Those are quite pretty, too," Zayn says as he resumes his drawing, extremely concentrated now and that won't do for Harry.

"Aren't as pretty as yours, though," Harry says, probably drunk on Zayn's attention. That has to be a thing, right? If it's not, Harry will make it a thing. He thinks it's a perfectly good excuse to say things he probably shouldn't say. Zayn just snorts at him so Harry keeps going. "And don't even get me started on your cheekbones."

That gets a laugh and a head shake out of Zayn as he mutters, “Bloody awful, I tell you.”

Harry grins, satisfied, when he notices the soft shade of pink that creeps to Zayn's face and the smile that lingers there.

They fall back into comfortable silence after that, quiet enough for Harry to hear Zayn's pencil wooshing over the paper. It's quite relaxing, even with Zayn's eyes roaming his face from time to time. Actually, it's even better when Zayn's eyes are on him.

\---

The first book Harry wants to give Zayn is "I Am the Messenger".

It was fun the first time he read it, still fun the second time and he figures Zayn might like it too. It's an easy read with some meaningful moments, about a guy who's not really good at anything and leads an ordinary life, until playing cards with addresses on them start showing up at his door. Harry highlights a few passages and even sticks some extra post-it notes in between the pages sometimes because, apparently, he babbles even in writing.

\---

Zayn finds the book waiting by his bedroom door when he comes back from the studio. He smiles, picks it up and forgoes showering to sit down on his bed to read just a few pages.

He's just barely started when he finds the first highlighted part. There's a post-it next to it that says _I can relate_.

" _I’m typical of many of the young men you see in this suburban outpost of the city—not a whole lot of prospects or possibility. That aside, I read more books than I should, and I’m decidedly crap at_ sex and _doing my taxes. Nice to meet you._ "

Zayn actually snorts when he sees Harry conveniently didn't highlight the part "sex and" and he can already tell he's going to like this book. He decides to stop and take that shower because he's going to have a hard time putting this one down.

\---

Zayn loves the book.

It's a perfect mixture of comical and emotional.

Harry highlights parts like "Have you ever noticed that idiots have a lot of friends? It's just an observation";  “All my friends seem to be smart arses. Don't ask me why. Like many things, it is what it is." (with a post-it that said "LOL" next to it. Zayn doesn't really know what it means but he'll ask someone about it later); "Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are";"It's impeccable how brutal the truth can be at times. You can only admire it."

Harry also highlights, "I want to stay here, in this moment, and never go to other places, where we don’t know what to say or what to do," and it makes Zayn's heart beat a little faster when he reads it over and over. It might not even mean anything, it might only mean Harry thought it was beautiful but Zayn can't help but to be hopeful.

Zayn puts all of Harry's post-its in his bedside table drawer and picks up his sketchbook. He draws an ace of spades and writes "big things are often just small things that are noticed" on it because he needs Harry to know that if he meant anything by that last part, it didn't go unnoticed. If Harry didn't, well. Then Zayn can just say he appreciates Harry's effort or something. Zayn also writes, "Loved the book," under the drawing just to be safe.

\---

Harry finds the drawing stuck to his bedroom door. He reads the quote Zayn wrote over it and he smiles.

\---

December rolls around and Harry is excited. He has always loved this time of year, everyone seems to be so cheerful. It's time for Christmas flavored drinks, Christmas decorations, and, well, Christmas all around. He remembers barely being able to fall asleep on Christmas Eve when he was younger, too excited to open up his presents to stay still. Then as he got older, Christmas meant getting fewer gifts and playing Secret Santa with a price range limit because he, and all of his friends, were short on money, in debts up to their necks trying to be functioning adults.

Still, Harry loves Christmas.

Which is why he thought it was rather weird that December had started but not even a single sock was hung by the fireplace, nor a tree had been bought by the middle of the month.

He goes to Liam to ask him about it and Liam just says, "Oh, yeah, we don't put anything up anymore."

Harry stares blankly at him. "What do you mean, you don't put anything up anymore? It's Christmas!"

"Yes, but, well.  Zayn's family is Muslim so they don't reaaally celebrate Christmas. They exchange gifts but that's about it. Plus, Louis' birthday is on Christmas Eve, so we just have a small party, and that's that."

"But what about the kids?” Harry takes a step back in shock. “I can't believe you guys are letting kids grow up with no Christmas tree or Christmas lights or--"

"How about you go to Zayn and ask him if you could decorate the house, hm?" Liam interrupts him with a smile letting Harry know, as gently as he can, that he isn't interested in this conversation anymore.

"Alright, I will, then," Harry says and leaves Liam alone.

 

 

After going through the entire house and seeing no sign of Zayn, Harry assumes he's in his studio. He considers letting it go for the time being. But then he remembers he hasn't seen Zayn all day and, well, this is as good as an excuse as anything. If he wants to be able to make up for lost time and get everything Christmas ready as soon as possible, he needs to get started instantly. Obviously, Harry must go after Zayn. For Christmas related reasons only. Yes.

Harry stops by the studio door and breathes in deeply before softly knocking twice.

"I'm busy," Zayn says from behind the door.

"Yeah, I know, I just needed to talk to you real quick."

Harry tries not to press his ear to the door, as he hears things being moved around, then a few seconds later, Zayn opens the door. Harry forces himself to focus on Zayn's face instead of looking over him and into the studio. Being nosy once didn't turn out so great.

"What's wrong?" Zayn asks, eyes searching Harry's face for any signs of what could be so important that Harry had to interrupt him. He looks a bit worried and it makes Harry feel guilty. He also looks incredibly good with his big hazel eyes but that's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Oh. Um. I was wondering if, um, if I could, like, you know, decorate the house, a little bit?" Harry asks sheepishly. "Liam told me you don't celebrate Christmas, but--I don't know, I just thought it could be fun? For Brooklyn, and Lux, and--" Harry cuts himself off when he realizes Zayn is looking at him with a bit of an incredulous look on his face. "What?"

"You interrupted me to ask me about Christmas lights?" Zayn asks and Harry would be worried if Zayn didn't sound like he was amused.

"Well, not just Christmas lights, obviously. I was also thinking about a tree?" Harry quips, going for cheeky, and that gets a laugh out of Zayn.

"Alright, fine."

"Really?" Harry beams, surprised at how easy it was.

Zayn laughs and nods, "Yes, Haz, go crazy. Is that all?"

Harry tries not to blush at the nickname, and nods, "Oh, yeah, right, sorry."

"It's alright. See you later, then," Zayn says with a smile before closing the door.

Right. Now Harry's got some shopping to do. This is going to be their best Christmas yet.

___

Harry spends hours at the shops buying Christmas decorations and presents.

Well, Harry buys just small gifts, things for everyone to remember him by. As much as he's got a good paycheck right now, he still has bills to pay at home and he has no jobs lined up for after he leaves the Malik manor. He tries not to focus too hard on the weird feeling he gets when he thinks about leaving, how his heart clenches and almost hurts when he thinks about not seeing everyone anymore, about not seeing _Zayn_ again.

Harry loads the car with with lights, decorations, gifts, and wrapping paper. He also manages to tie the tree on top of the car with the help of the store owner, a lovely old man named Charles, who shows Harry pictures of all his children and asks him a lot of questions about working for the Malik's. Apparently everyone down at the village was very surprised that the family allowed a stranger to just go in there.

When Harry finally gets back to the house, it's already dinner time, so Harry just takes everything inside (with Liam's and Niall's help and under Louis' supervision), before joining everyone in the dining room to eat.

After dinner, Harry starts decorating. He asks Brooklyn and Lux to help him with the non-breakables and things like hanging socks by the fireplace. Then they go to bed and Harry is all by himself.

He gets himself some tea, presses play on whatever playlist he has on his phone and keeps on decorating. He starts with the lights, hanging some by the main staircase and here and there around the house. Most of them go in the sitting room where he has decided to put the Christmas tree. The tree is his favorite part, so he saves that for last.

Harry keeps moving things around on the tree once he gets it set up, trying to keep it pretty and evenly balanced; trying not to put too many ornaments of the same color on one side while leaving room to throw some lights around it. He loses track of time, decorating and singing along to random songs. He gets so distracted, he doesn't even notice Zayn standing by the door until he speaks.

"Why are you still up?" Zayn asks, and it startles Harry, much like that time in the library, when they first started talking. It's a miracle Harry doesn't drop anything or knock the entire tree to the floor.

"Why do you always do this?" Harry counters with a breathy laugh, turning around to look at Zayn. Zayn looks like he is ready to go to bed, all soft and cuddly looking, wearing a jumper that's a bit too big for him and sweatpants. He is so, so lovely.

"Do what?" Zayn says as he takes a few steps into the room, taking everything in.

"Nothing," Harry shakes his head and smiles, looking around as well. "So, what do you think?"

Zayn looks around a bit more, and nods, "Looks nice. Proper comfy looking." He nods again and looks back at Harry, "Need any help, or are you done already?"

"I could use some help. Give me your artistic point of view," he says. Zayn laughs, just this short chuckle and moves closer, circling the tree, examining it.

Harry watches as Zayn moves a few ornaments around and helps him when he asks Harry to hand him things. They work together in comfortable silence and, at some point, Harry makes them more tea.

When they finally think they're done, they sit down on floor and admire their work. The tree looks really nice, filled with ornaments and sparkling lights and it gives Harry the quiet feeling of contentedness Christmas always seems to bring. It makes him think of home, of being a kid again, curled under a blanket with his head on his mother's lap as she read him and Gemma stories.

It also gives him that weird feeling again, that pang in his chest as he thinks about about this being the only Christmas he'll spend at the Malik manor, with Zayn. It suddenly makes him yearn to be there for more years to come, makes him want to stay there for as long as he can.That feeling is so, so foreign to him because Harry has never felt like this, he's never been able to maintain a relationship for very long.

Harry's been in love before, of course but it always felt like something was missing. He's loved both men and women before but Harry has never looked at someone and felt like he's met his true counterpart, he was never truly satisfied. It's not like he's saying he feels that with Zayn, it’s far too soon for that. Especially because they have never even went on a date (and probably never will,but Harry can dream). There's just something about him. Something in Zayn that Harry can feel, something Harry sees in him that mirrors everything Harry feels even if they probably deal with it differently. Harry is always out there, always searching, always giving himself up to anyone who'll take him and taking everything people give him in return while, sometimes, it feels as though Zayn has given up.

It makes Harry wonder about Zayn. Ever curious, it makes him want to know what happened to Zayn that made him this way, that made him go into hiding. He wonders if someone broke his heart or if Zayn was ever a people person at all. Maybe it’s social anxiety.It seems like such a waste for him to be locked away in the manor, for the world never know what a great person Zayn is. Harry feels sorry for everyone who will never get a chance to meet Zayn but it also makes him feel so lucky he had a chance to meet him, to have Zayn in his life even if only for a little while. Not just him but everyone else he’s met at the Malik manor. Harry will always cherish the friendships he’s made but he feels like he'll miss Zayn's the most.

Harry thinks about what it would be like if he ever met Zayn outside these walls, if they would get along. He wonders if he were to ask Zayn out if he would say yes. Harry likes to think he would. He thinks they'd get along just as well in the outside world and he starts thinking of all the places he'd like to take Zayn, of all the things Harry could show him. He'd properly sweep Zayn off his feet, that’s for sure.

Harry doesn't realize he'd gone all quiet until Zayn snaps his fingers in front of his eyes and brings him out of his reverie.

"For a moment there, I thought you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open," Zayn says, the corner of his lips curving up into a smile.

Harry smiles back because how can he not and shakes his head, "Was just... Admiring our work. We make a good team."

Zayn's smile grows and he nods. "We do, don't we?"

Harry nod with him and smiles dumbly once more before he can stop himself. Zayn is looking at him and Harry feels like he can't look away as usual. He feels his face getting warmer, feels the air around them growing heavier, thicker. Harry feels like he should say something, or do something, but it's like he can't move, too afraid of break this fragile moment, to push Zayn away or scare him off.

Zayn is the first one to look away and Harry almost feels like crying because it ended too soon until he follows Zayn gaze and realizes Zayn didn't look away after all. He's looking down at Harry's hand, brows slightly furrowed, just as he lifts his hand. Harry holds his breath because if Zayn touches him like Harry thinks he might, he's going to explode. Harry doesn't explode but Zayn does touch him, just his shy, soft touch at first, fingertips running over the back of Harry's hand until Zayn's hand covers Harry's entirely. Then Zayn rubs his thumb over the skin there and Harry feels like he's going to pass out.

Maybe it's because he has momentarily forgotten how to breathe but Harry's head is spinning. Zayn's hand so warm over his and he can fee the heat spreading in his arm, through his chest, all the way up to his face. When Harry's eyes travel back to Zayn's face, Harry feels the air leaving his lungs all at once. Zayn's already looking at him, intense and uncertain at the same time.

"Is this okay?" Zayn asks, still rubbing his thumb in small circles over Harry's hand, slowly, so slowly, like he's afraid Harry might notice what he's doing if he moves any faster. Harry nods, doesn't trust himself to speak just yet but he moves his hand, turns it palm side up. Zayn relaxes visibly, and gives Harry the smallest of smiles, this sweet little thing that makes Harry's heart go thump thump thump inside his chest.

Zayn keeps his touches light, running his fingertips from the center of Harry's hand up to the inside of his wrist then down; light and deliberate, all the way to Harry's fingertips, before going back the way he came from.

It makes Harry's skin tingle, goosebumps covering his arms, his fingers twitching every now and then. Zayn looks from Harry's face to his hand and Harry is sure Zayn can probably hear and see how his breathing has gone ragged.

Harry blushes even further at the thought, and Zayn, the cheeky bastard, smirks, he fucking smirks. Harry has never seen Zayn's face do that before and Jesus Christ, it's devastating and so, so hot. Harry doesn't even know what his own face is doing anymore, all he knows is that he's about to get hard from having his hand played with, and a smirk.

Harry tries to laugh it off, slaps Zayn's hand away playfully but Zayn is faster, and he grabs Harry's hand with a soft chuckle and brings it closer to his face, pressing his lips to Harry's fingertips.

Just like that, Harry's laughter dies in his throat and he goes hot all over again. Zayn isn't laughing either, as he lowers Harry's hand. He looks a bit startled, like he's surprised he even did that, like he's scared he's done something wrong, and Harry just--he can't have Zayn looking like that, so he does the only thing that comes to his mind. He curls his free hand around the back of Zayn's neck, and pulls him closer, pressing their lips together.

Harry feels Zayn's sharp intake of breath and instantly regrets doing anything in the first place but just as he is about to pull away, Zayn tightens his fingers on Harry's hand to keep him close, starts kissing Harry back.

Zayn's lips are soft, plush almost, and Harry honest to God sighs when Zayn parts his lips and licks into his mouth.

Harry lets go of Zayn's hand so he can bury his fingers into Zayn's hair, tries to get as close to him as he can. He climbs into his lap without even thinking, his entire brain turning to mush just from the feel of Zayn's mouth. Not to mention, the way Zayn smells up close like this; everything so new and at the same time, weirdly familiar, like they've been doing this for years, their mouths and bodies moving in sync.

Zayn's hands go to Harry's hips and he squeezes, moving up, and going around Harry's back, fingertips digging in like he never wants to let go. Zayn's hair feels silky under Harry's fingers and he hums when Harry tugs on it, so Harry does it again, over and over.

When they pull apart, they both are breathing hard. Harry doesn't want to open his eyes just yet though, scared that he might have imagined all of this. So he keeps his eyes closed tight and lets his forehead rest against Zayn's. He can feel Zayn rubbing his back soothingly, can feel the soft puff of Zayn's breathing against his face as he tries to calm down too.

"That was..." Zayn starts to say, his voice barely a whisper.  He doesn't finish and he doesn't really need to because Harry already knows. He just nods and takes one of Zayn's hands in his own, placing it over his heart so Zayn can feel how fast it's beating.

Zayn smiles when he does and gives Harry a soft kiss on his lips. Then Zayn's expression clouds over and he pulls away so he can look at Harry properly.

"We should wait, though," he pauses, making Harry's heart sink to his stomach, "This--I mean, with you working here, this isn't--"Zayn tries to explain, shaking his head as if to put his thoughts in order.

"Oh," Harry says, less than eloquent. He had forgotten all about Zayn being his boss as soon as Zayn touched his hand. "No, yeah, you're right, I'm, I'm sorry," Harry stammers as he tries to disentangle himself from Zayn.

Zayn holds Harry in place so he can’t get away; moves his hands up to his face to make Harry look at him. "Don't apologize, I--" Zayn rubs over Harry's face with his thumbs, so carefully it makes Harry feel like he's something special. "I want this," Zayn says, seriously, willing Harry to understand with his eyes, "Want you. It just isn't right, right now. There's still so much I need to tell you. And I don't want to do this now. Not while you might feel like you need to stay here, or do something just because you're working for me. I want you to be able to do whatever you want."

Harry frowns, "I don't feel like that. I know I can come and go as I please. It's not like you're sexually harassing me, I want this just as much."

"I know, but still--"

"And I don't care about the paycheck."

Zayn shakes his head fondly and runs a hand through Harry's hair, "You say that now but it'd probably be a different case by the end of the month when your friends are pestering you about rent. Just--just until New Year's, okay? It'll go by faster than you think."

Harry thinks about it for a moment, then nods, "Fine. Just one month?"

"Just one month," Zayn nods.

"Alright. One last kiss to seal the deal?" Harry asks with a grin. Zayn doesn't say anything, just pulls Harry closer and kisses him again.

\---

So they don't kiss anymore after that night.

Somehow, that turns out to be even better because then they have to talk instead. Harry gets the chance to learn pretty much everything he's wanted to know about Zayn since the beginning. They stay up late together by the Christmas tree, laying side by side, and tell each other whatever comes to mind. Zayn tells Harry all about his tattoos, how he'd gotten a lot of them a few years back during a trip to America. Harry has a hard time believing Zayn not only left the house but also the country. Zayn just laughs and says it was different back then.

"When?" Harry asks and Zayn shrugs.

"Just--back then."

Zayn still hasn't told Harry why he pulled away from everyone, but Harry doesn't push, he knows Zayn will tell him when he's ready.

"I wish I'd met you earlier," Harry tells him one night, as he holds Zayn's hand in the air, looking at the way their fingers intertwine. Zayn's hand looks so small compared to his own, Harry's pale skin so boring when compared to Zayn's gorgeous olive tone.

"Earlier when?" Zayn asks, tapping his fingertips against Harry's, like he's stroking piano keys.

"Just earlier. When you weren't here. Things would be different."

Zayn hums just to show Harry he's listening. "Do you think you'd like me, if we met out there?" Zayn asks after a few minutes of quiet.

"Yeah." Harry pauses, thinking, then, "Would you've said yes if I asked you out?" he asks, turning his head so he can look at Zayn.

Zayn turns too, and grins, "How could I have said no to those eyes, and those dimples?" Harry feels his face heating up.

He bites his lip to keep himself from smiling but when Zayn pokes his face right where his dimple should sit, Harry knows he's failed.

"Where would you take me?" Zayn asks, turning on his side and propping himself up on his elbow.

"For our first date? I don't know. This isn't fair, you didn't give me time to think!" Harry laughs.

Zayn does too, in this cute way of his that makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes get really tiny. "Take your time," he says. He plays with Harry’s fingers while he waits for him to give him an answer.

"I don't know. I'd probably stick to dinner and a movie. Your choice, of course. Then I'd walk you home, hold your hand as we walked..."

"Would you try and kiss me goodnight?" Zayn asks with a grin.

"I probably would," Harry admits, chuckling. He reaches for Zayn's face, runs his thumb over the the scruff there then back through Zayn's hair. It’s so simple but Harry still can't believe he's allowed to do it now.

Zayn just smiles down at Harry, lets Harry take his time touching him because, apparently, he likes being touched as much as Harry likes touching him. Then, he smirks; well aware of the reaction he gets out of Harry, "I would've let you," he says.

Harry groans and presses his face to into Zayn's chest, "You can’t just say that. You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now. Been dreaming about it for days," Harry says, pulling back to look at Zayn's face. "Can't we? Just a little bit?" He pouts but only for dramatic effect. Zayn's eyes zone in on Harry's lips, and for a second there, Harry thinks he might get his way. But then Zayn shakes his head, and laughs.

"Stop testing me, you're evil," he says, kissing Harry's cheek. He rolls to lay on his back again.

"It was worth a shot," Harry shrugs, smiling shamelessly. Zayn laughs again and chews on his bottom lip as he looks back at Harry.

"Just a few more weeks. We're getting there," he promises.

Yes, they _are_ getting there, Harry thinks.

\---

The weeks seems to fly by and drag on simultaneously.

Harry and Zayn keep talking, getting to know each other better. They keep on trading books and quotes, using other people's words to say what they can't quite articulate themselves. It should make Harry feel a bit ridiculous, like a teenager again, passing notes to his crush in the school halls. The truth is, he loves it for the exact same reason. It all gives him the same thrill it did when he was fifteen; seeing Zayn as he hands Harry a book with a grin then with a shy edge to his smile when Harry is the one giving him something. It's also a lot better than being fifteen because, well, Harry isn't a writer now, and he certainly wasn't one then.

He could've never written " _Sometimes it seemed to him that his life was delicate as a dandelion. One little puff from any direction, and it was blown to bits_ " like Katherine Paterson, or " _Was it love when somebody filled a space in your life that yawned inside you, once they had gone?_ " like J. K. Rowling.

And Harry was pretty sure he’s never dated a Neil Gaiman to write him " _I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took joy in the things that made me happy_ ", or a Charles Dickens to tell him " _I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul._ "

If Harry hadn't already noticed, after that last one, he thinks to says he’s at least 72% sure he is a little bit in love. Well, not just a little bit. Kind of a lot in love. He spends his days working, his evenings talking to Zayn, and sometimes entire nights dreaming about him; about Zayn’s face, about his lips and body, and his voice. God, he’s so done for.

Harry knows everyone else has noticed too even if they don't say anything. Not that they need to because Harry can see the way his friends look at them, as if they are saying, "Look at these two idiots". Harry thinks Louis even called them disgustingly adorable at one point (Harry agrees, if he's being honest). All in all, everyone seems to be rather pleased about Harry and Zayn's blooming relationship. Harry can’t quite get over the fact they support him so fully added onto the fact they have accepted him into their home, their family.

Soon enough, Christmas week comes around and the house comes alive to get ready to for Louis' birthday celebration. Harry makes a few trips to the shops to get everything Lou asks him to for the birthday dinner and he grabs a few birthday decorations even though Louis will probably insist he doesn’t need to. On Christmas Eve, Louis wakes Harry up declaring it Louis Day, and demands that Harry gives him his birthday present before they have even had breakfast.

The entire day revolves around what Louis wants and everyone seems more than happy to oblige, catering to Louis' every whim. It turns out to be the best Christmas Eve Harry's ever had. They all get together for dinner at the main dining room after putting a few extra tables around so they all can eat together. Zayn lets Louis sit at the head of the table and takes the opportunity to sit by Harry's side, squeezing his hand or knee every so often under the table while they eat.

After dinner, a few of them decide to call it a night while the rest of them move the party to the sitting room, spreading themselves over the sofas and on the floor as Niall gets his guitar and sings them songs (all Louis' choice, of course). Zayn never leaves Harry's side but as the night goes on, he gets quieter and quieter. Back when Harry first met Zayn he wouldn’t be bothered by the way he seems to pull back but now that they spend all of their time talking, it starts to make him feel nervous.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks quietly when everyone is distracted by Niall and his guitar. Zayn looks at him and nods, giving Harry a tight lipped smile. It doesn't settle Harry at all.

An hour later, the remaining staff starts to get sleepy, too much food and too many drinks taking a toll on them. Louis chooses to fall asleep exactly where he is on the biggest, comfiest armchair in the room (because Louis Day lasts until we go to sleep, so of course I deserve the better seat), whereas Liam is star-fished on the floor. Everyone else goes to  their rooms, one by one, until there's only a handful of them left.

Harry and Zayn decide to leave then, too but as they reach the main staircase, where they usually part ways, Zayn stops Harry by tugging on his hand where their fingers are still wrapped together. "Actually, could I speak with you for a moment?"

Harry furrows his brows and nods, "Sure."

Zayn nods back, an expression on his face Harry can't read. His hand is tight and warm against Harry's and Harry rubs it with his thumb, tries to get Zayn to relax as they continue the walk upstairs. Zayn leads Harry through the corridors until they stop just outside Zayn's studio door. When Harry realizes where they are his eyes widen and he starts to get uncontrollably excited. Zayn is _finally_ going to let him in.

Before he opens the door, though, Zayn turns to Harry and takes hold of his other hand as well.

"Before we go inside, I need you to promise me something," Zayn says, looking at Harry, dead serious. Harry's excitement dies down just slightly.

"Okay."

"Please, promise me you'll hear everything I have to say," Zayn pauses, waiting for Harry to nod, which he does, emphatically. "After that, you're free to do what you want. You may leave in the morning and never come back if it pleases you."

"Why would I want to leave?" Harry asks, suddenly confused. There’s a low roll of nerves in his stomach at the intensity of Zayn’s words, his gaze.

"You'll understand in a moment. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind and hear me out first. All of it. Promise me, Harry."

"I promise," Harry nods again, wide eyed and scared now. He can feel his heartbeat picking up pace, thrumming in his ear drums.

Zayn stares at Harry for a moment, like he's studying him. He pulls Harry in, and kisses him deep, like he's never kissed him before, like he might never kiss him again. Usually, kissing Zayn is enough to make Harry forget about everything but, this time, it only makes him more nervous.

When he pulls back, Zayn turns around to the door so quickly that Harry almost misses the slightly pained expression his face has contorted into. Zayn opens the studio door and steps aside so Harry can walk in ahead of him, closing the door after them. Zayn flicks the light switch on. He just stands there and lets Harry look around by himself. Harry does, because he finally can, moving closer to the paintings that catch his attention the most.

"These are so beautiful, Zayn," Harry says breathlessly, all worries forgotten for a moment.

Harry hears Zayn saying a soft, "Thank you", from somewhere behind him, but doesn't turn to him. He just keeps wandering  through the canvases until he gets to the ones that were covered the last time Harry came in.

"And these ones?" Harry points at them and looks at Zayn.

Zayn moves closer and pulls away the white cloth that is covering the remaining canvases. They're all turned facing the wall and all Harry can see is that there's something scribbled at the bottom of the back of each of them.

"Go on," Zayn says, nodding towards the canvases. Harry picks one up and slowly turns it around. He has a feeling that this has something to do with what Zayn was talking about before; so he knows this is it; He knows something big is about to happen. Whatever it must be is clearly so important to Zayn so it’s just as important to Harry.

But when he finally turns the canvas fully and lets his eyes settle on the painting he’s holding, he sees--it's just him. A bigger and more colorful version of the drawing of him Zayn had made awhile ago.

 _Well, that's anticlimactic_ , Harry thinks.

He looks at Zayn, puzzled. Zayn shakes his head, serious and picks another of the turned canvases up, handing it to Harry. Harry takes it and it's another painting of him, except--

"I don't remember posing for this," Harry says, looking from the canvas to Zayn's face. It’s a painting of his profile, his face split into a huge grin.

"You didn't," Zayn says softly.

"You drew this from memory, then?"

"No. Well. Yes. Kind of."Zayn shakes his head and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, clearly overwhelmed.

"Zayn, I don't--I don't get it," Harry frowns, confused.  He crouches down, setting the canvases aside, and starts going through the other ones. They're all of him, some more accurate than others, a few of them are hazy and  blurred but all of them are the same pale tones against chocolate browns; all of them are clearly Harry even if they aren't all painted with the same clarity.

"I drew these before I met you," Zayn says but Harry barely hears him; he’s  still trying to understand.

Harry notices  the scribbles he had seen earlier and he leans closer to see what they are. He sees February, April, and May, then August and September--dates. He doesn't understand, he doesn't get it.

He might even say it out loud because Zayn speaks up again, "I--I used to dream about you."

Harry drops the canvas he’s holding  and looks up at Zayn, frowning. "What are you _saying_? How is that even possible?"

Zayn sighs and crouches to get on Harry's level, "Remember what I asked you? Keep an open mind, and listen to me?" He’s looking at Harry with big, apprehensive eyes. Harry nods, too stupefied to do anything else, so Zayn takes a deep breath, "Can I tell you what happened?”

\---

Zayn was actually born a long time ago. When, exactly, didn't matter anymore, not to him anyway. His childhood was such a long time ago most of the memories are a blur. One thing he remembers for sure, though, is what happened to him when he was 23.

Zayn's family has always had money, right from the beginning. It was something that came down through generations and hadn't changed with time. The Malik’s were smart, invested in land and science. They were highly educated and planned to achieve great heights. Zayn knew he was privileged even then. He was young, handsome and came from a great family. He knew he was quite the catch, an eligible bachelor.

For a young man, at the time, he was already expected to be married and starting a family but it that wasn't something that was on his mind just then.

Zayn wanted to study, to travel, to see the world. He took advantage of his privilege confident in knowing that no matter how long he waited, he'd always have options. He’d still be able to find a nice girl to settle down with. Though, at the time,Zayn wasn't even sure that a nice girl was what he wanted at all. Sometimes he would see a bloke on the street, and think he was just as beautiful as any other bird he'd met before (even though that was something he never dared mention to anyone).

So, Zayn took his time. He left home at 18 and he traveled, mostly. He visited China, India, and Africa. He saw all the things he’d ever dreamed of, tasted every food he came across; the future had never looked so bright to him before. At 22, he returned home, already a grown man. That's when he first met Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had been working for a year at the Malik home when Zayn got back, he didn't even notice her right away. Elizabeth was quiet, always moving from one room to another nearly silent; always keeping to herself.

The first time they met it was because she'd broken a vase on accident. Zayn found her on the floor trying to gather the broken pieces. She was so startled when she saw Zayn watching her, she cut her finger.He helped her patch her finger up and promised he wouldn't tell anyone about the vase just so she would stop apologizing. Elizabeth smiled at him and from then on, Zayn couldn't get her off of his mind.

He tried not to actively pursue her, to let it go, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. Louis (who had already been working for the Maliks, and was his closest friend even then) warned Zayn about her, about things people sometimes said in the kitchen, about how he thought  there was something off about her. There were even whispers of her being involved with sorcery.

Zayn brushed it all off because, honestly, sorcery?

Despite of everyone’s warnings, Zayn let himself get close to her. Zayn found the whole thing to be fun for a while; the getting-to-know-each-other part and all the sneaking around. During those early days he even thought he could fall in love with her someday. As the months went by, though, that feeling started to fade; for him, at least. It was clear that Elizabeth was still completely enamored by Zayn and he knew he couldn't keep stringing her along. He was the one who decided to break it off.

Elizabeth showed a lot of different emotions the day that he told her. At first, it was clear disbelief. She said she just couldn't accept that Zayn didn't want to be with her anymore. Then, she tried to bargain with him; promised she would change whatever she needed to to keep him, said she'd do anything for him. When Zayn explained, as softly as he could, that there was nothing she could do to change his mind. He said that sometimes people just fall out of love and, that, somehow, Zayn knew that she wasn't it for him. He wasn't it for her either and maybe they had yet to find their one true love. Elizabeth didn’t agree, still--she got mad instead. Not just mad, even; she was furious.

She showed him a side of herself Zayn had never seen before. He could barely believe that his sweet, soft spoken Liz was the same person screaming profanities at him in a fit of rage.

"You'll pay, Zayn Malik, you'll pay," she screamed, pointing at Zayn with a delicate finger menacingly. "If you won't grow old with me, you won't grow old at all. Until you find your precious soulmate, this is what you'll be. You, and everyone else that helped turn you against me. I curse the day you were born and all the days to come."

With that, the Malik household was cursed, and Elizabeth disappeared from their lives.

Zayn didn't take it seriously at first, he didn't even tell anyone what Elizabeth had said, because he didn't think it was real. But then as time went by things weren't changing anymore. Zayn's father wasn't getting new gray hairs, his little sisters, and Brooklyn and Lux, weren't aging, not even a little bit. Someone mentioned the way Lux should have been going through clothes at the speed of light for her age but her size hadn’t changed in weeks. It hit Zayn then, as he thought of Elizabeth’s words--the joke he had assumed them to be.

When Zayn gathered everyone around, and told them what had happened with Liz that night, they reacted much of the same way she did when he had broken up with her. Some of them wouldn't believe it, others were mad. They told him they had warned Zayn against her and he still hadn’t listened. Eventually the anger gave ways to sadness. What kind of life were they to live, forever stuck in a body, never changing or growing, paying for something they hadn't done?

The guilt ate at Zayn and he promised he'd do whatever he could to make it right, as soon as possible. He started by going after Elizabeth. He asked around, traveled everywhere there was even the smallest chance to find her but Elizabeth was sneaky, always had been. After months away from home, Zayn realized it was a lost battle.

The only thing left to try to fix it was the way she had first told him: Zayn went after his soulmate. He became more social than he'd ever been before going to parties and galas, looking for someone who could be the one. It was exciting at first, to look for that true love. But after awhile it started getting painful instead.

Yes, maybe he'd done Elizabeth wrong but he had never meant to hurt her; he wasn’t heartless. It was the worst kind of punishment, though, to meet someone and get close enough to develop feelings only to realize that nothing had changed; that everything back at home was still the same. It wasn’t even himself hurting, it was painful to see everyone's faces, to see the sadness and disappointment there each time.

As the years started to pass, it was suspicious to outsiders that no one had aged at all. They had no choice but to start moving around. At first, they only went different places around the UK, but then they started moving to different countries; they even lived in America for a few years. All the while, Zayn had never stopped searching; until, one day, he truly  thought he'd found the one.

He had been studying in America at the time (the only way he found to make all his extra time seem useful) when he met Charlie. They'd been paired up as roommates and hit it off right away. By then, Zayn had long come to terms with his fluid sexuality, so he wasn't surprised to think that his soulmate could be a man. Charlie was so charming, too. By the end of their first week at college, Charlie had everyone wrapped around his finger and Zayn was no exception.

As he got to know Charlie, Zayn was almost certain that he was the one,  his soulmate. At the risk of hurting himself and the people he loved the most, Zayn decided to take his time with Charlie. Regardless, he fell for him so hard, so fast. Just thinking about being with him only to find out he was wrong again, that Charlie wasn't it at all, made Zayn's heart clench. It was probably selfish but Zayn wanted to enjoy the time before he found out for as long as he could, before having his heart broken. Almost a year of being just friends gave way to them deciding to start dating. When six months after Charlie told Zayn he loved him, and Zayn still hadn't heard from anyone at home, not one single call telling him the girls started to grow, that Brooklyn or Lux had gotten at least an inch taller, Zayn knew his search still wasn't over.

And that broke Zayn's heart more than any time before. He gave up completely.

Zayn broke up with Charlie, quit college and moved back home. He cried for the first time in years and locked himself up in his room. He refused to see anyone for days using the excuse that he was just so tired. The last part was true, he was emotionally exhausted.

It took months for him to start talking to people again and, when he did, Zayn realized that everyone else had given up too. They were already resigned to the idea that this was their life now, which is why most of the staff decided to stay and continue to work for the Maliks. It was too much of a hassle, getting updated papers and ID’s all the time, and not to mention how unqualified most of them were what with not having gone to uni. It was a lot easier to stick to what they knew. Life at the Malik home kept on going; people had jobs to do, and all the time in the world to do it.

Zayn took up drawing and painting as a way to vent and pass the time. It was Trisha's idea to start selling Zayn's paintings, she has always been his liaison with the outside world. Zayn's paintings sell pretty well, people love the mystery that revolves around not knowing who the artist is. The rest of the Malik family members continued with their moving around from place to place but Zayn never left the house anymore. Trisha was the only one that came to see him, and that's how things worked for sometime.

Shortly after, the dreams began.

Zayn couldn't see anything clearly at first; his dreams were a mess of colors. As months went by, though, the images started getting clearer. Images of a man he’d never met before, never seen, yet his features got sharper, haunting Zayn's dreams every other night. Zayn thought he was going mad.

Until one day, finally, Harry was there, right in front of Zayn, lovelier than he'd ever been in any of Zayn's dreams. Harry was real, a living, breathing person, Zayn couldn’t understand how any of it was possible. He even considered the possibility of finally having gone mad, that he’d started seeing things.

So of course, Zayn freaked out.

"And the rest of the story,” Zayn finishes, “Well. You were there. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you standing there, and I didn't--I didn't know what to do. I'd been searching and waiting for _so long_. I just remember thinking _This is it, isn't it? Fate_. Because it has to be, right? People don't just dream about people they have never seen before only to have them show up at their door out of the blue. But I was scared, because how could I know for sure? I've been wrong before. I was so nervous about doing something wrong, about scaring you away.”

By the time Zayn finished telling his story, they were sitting on the floor, facing each other. As absurd as all of it sounds to Harry, it also seems to make sense, fills in the missing pieces of Zayn’s story. Like, why Zayn never leaves the house and why no one really talks about how they came to work for the family. Other things too, once Harry thinks about it; neither Brooklyn or Lux have been getting bigger when they're supposed to be at the age where kids go through clothes so fast.

Harry is still having a hard time wrapping his head around everything Zayn’s just said but, regardless of it being true or not, he needs to know one thing. "So none of this was real? You just-were you just doing what you had to to fix this?" Harry asks.

Zayn stares at him, wide eyed, like he didn't even consider Harry would think that.

"So? Was it true?" Harry presses, again, surprised at how calm he sounds.

"What do you mean, 'was it real'? Of course it was real, Harry, I'm not a monster. I want us to be happy, love, both of us. I had to tell you the truth so you could choose for yourself. I never lied to you, though. Everything I’ve done, or said, it’s all been real."

"Well, you never lied, a part from all of this you just told me, right?" Harry scoffs, running a hand through his hair. He’s starting to feel lightheaded trying to take it all in.

Zayn shakes his head, "I didn't lie, I just couldn't tell you right away. I had to be sure."

"Sure of what?" Harry asks, getting to his feet.

Zayn follows, "Of you, of us! I had to know if there was something there! And there is, isn't there? You feel it too, don't you? This thing between us, you feel it, right?" Zayn reached for Harry with hopeful eyes but that hope turns into hurt when Harry takes a step back.

It hurts Harry too, to see Zayn like this, but he can’t help but feeling betrayed, like a pawn in a game he didn’t even know was being played. Harry understands Zayn on some levels but this is still so much for him to rationalize all at once.

"I think I'm gonna go. I need to go, need to think and I can't do that, not now, not here," Harry says, avoiding Zayn's gaze. He knows he'll cave if he looks into Zayn's eyes right now. Zayn remains silent as he watches Harry and then he’s taking a step back; his feet are the only thing Harry can really see as his eyes are trained on the floor.

"I'll get the car ready," Zayn finally says. His voice is strained, like it could snap in half. Harry musters up the courage to look up at Zayn then, but he regrets it as soon as he does. Zayn has his hands clasped behind his back, jaw set. His face turned away from Harry. Still, he can’t help but think he is so beautiful, even like this. It makes Harry's heart ache.

He whispers his name but Zayn just shakes his head. "Please, don't say anything, not just yet. I want you to know that you don't owe me anything. I did not tell you all of this to try and guilt you into anything. I just couldn't hide this from you anymore," he says, looking up at Harry with a sad smile; like he's putting on a brave face, like he's resigned to whatever Harry decides to do with all of his words, with all of _him_. As always, Zayn nods as a goodbye, and leaves Harry standing alone.

At first Harry feels like he can’t move as he looks around the room. The air is so heavy with all that's been shared. Zayn's words are still echoing in his brain and Harry is still trying to figure out how on earth they got to this point. He needs to go.

The walk back to his room has never seemed this long, not even when Zayn first kicked him out of his studio. No, this is worse. When Harry gets there, he sees the lights are already on; Niall, Louis and Liam are all sitting on his bed. They stare at him with something that looks like pity in their eyes and maybe something a little like hope.

"So he told you, then?" Liam asks, concern coloring his voice. Harry nods, feeling his eyes watering up.

"How the hell is all of this possible?" Harry asks, trying his best not to let his voice break with the weight of his emotions.

"Dunno, mate. All we know is that we've been living with it for ages," Niall shrugs, always acting like the carefree one. Harry walks over to the bed and the three of them move to make room for him to sit  in between them.

"Do you think it's true, though? How he feels about me?" Harry asks, only sniffling when Louis starts running a hand through his hair gently.

"Zayn was like a ghost before you came around, Harry. And I'm not just saying that because I want this damn curse to be broken--"

"Louis!" Liam hisses, and Harry groans.

"Oh god, you could be stuck like this forever because of me," Harry whines, hiding his face in his hands. For some reason the full implication of his decisions hadn’t sunk in until just then.

"No, Harry, listen," Liam starts, pulling Harry's hands away from his face, "don't even think about us, okay? Just do whatever you think is best for you. It won't even work if it isn't genuine, anyway. That’s the whole point. So. Go home. Think about it. And just--don't come back unless you mean it, okay? It'll break Zayn's heart," he says softly. Harry meets his eyes but has to drop his gaze at the silently pleading look on Liam’s face. Harry nods slowly, there’s now way he could say no to Liam when he looks like that. Then, he frowns.

"How does it work, though? How do we break it? Zayn said Elizabeth told him he needed to find his soulmate, and he did, right? Me. Shouldn't it be broken by now?"

"Nah, I don't think it's that easy," Niall says. "Otherwise it would have broken the second you locked eyes or something. Reckon you need to fall in love, like, true love's kiss or somethin'."

"We have kissed, though," Harry points out.

"Hold on, are you saying that you love him, then?" Louis asks, suddenly bouncing with excitement.

"Well." Harry shrugs, his cheeks heating up.

"Well, then," Louis chirps, like his energy has been renewed, "Maybe you guys just need to, you know, consummate it." He waggles his eyebrows and Liam elbows him on the ribs while Niall cackles. "Ow, what? I said _consummate_ , I could've said worse."

"It's still crude, Lou." Liam shakes his head.

"I'm just saying. God knows Zayn needs it." Louis lifts his hands up in surrender.

"You are the most cheerful cursed person I have ever met," Harry says, ignoring the heat spreading through his cheeks from the subject at hand.

"Eh, we're used to it. It's not like it could get any worse, is it?" Niall shrugs yet again. Louis and Liam nod in agreement.

"Yeah, I guess not." Harry sniffles one last time, then rubs his hands together. He knows he still needs to leave, needs to weigh what he knows now. "Can you help me pack?"

\---

Harry doesn't see Zayn again before he leaves. He doesn't see anyone besides  the boys who say heartfelt goodbyes to him at the door. Once he’s finally in the car, Harry looks out the window,and watches as the Malik manor gets smaller and smaller, as he drives away.

\---

Being back home and in London feels weird.

Jeff and Nick take Harry to the pub his first night back and listen to him as he tells them about his time away. Harry tells them about everything, the people and the little shops at the village nearby and, lastly, about falling for Zayn. Harry chooses to leave the part about the curse out of his story;  the two of them already think Harry is quirky enough as it is. Jeff tells Harry he should let it go, that it's not a good idea to pursue any of it while Nick can't believe Harry didn't take the chance to get together with his hot, rich boss. It’s nice to be back with them but all in all their advice is quite shit.

During the days between Christmas and New Year's Eve, Harry spends time alone letting thoughts roll through his mind uninhibited.

He goes through all of the pictures he had saved on his phone and all the quotes he had written down in his journal. It only serves to make him miss Zayn more. Being in noisy old London makes him even more aware of how much he came to cherish the countryside's calmness. Zayn's quietness makes itself even more noticeable in comparison and Harry misses the peace that came with it. He misses Zayn's voice, the way Harry always felt warm when they spoke; he even misses his accent. He misses Zayn's smiles, all the different types that Harry had tucked away and categorized. He misses the warmth of Zayn's eyes and the feel of Zayn's hand against his own. Though it’s only been a few days since leaving Zayn, Harry already feels a continuous ache in his chest.

He thinks it might be because he went from seeing Zayn everyday to not seeing him at all. But maybe, Harry starts to think, it hurts so badly because he made a huge mistake by leaving.

He starts to wonder if it even matters that Zayn kept those things from him in the beginning, if everything else that happened was true?

Hell, Harry couldn't even bring himself to tell his best friends about the curse and all it brought with it, so he can only imagine how terrifying it must have been for Zayn to come clean. He could have easily kept quiet about it all together. Harry would still be working there until the end of his contract, then he'd certainly take Zayn out on a date and, eventually, the curse would have  been broken. Zayn had nothing to gain by telling Harry the truth and everything to lose. He did it anyway, though; out of respect for letting Harry make the decision. He knew he could end up with his heart broken again but he cared about Harry too much to con him into something like that. He risked it all for Harry. That, in and of itself, can only prove what he said about being honest and real the whole time was true.

Oh god, Harry's made a terrible mistake.

Harry gets to his feet and runs to straight Jeff's bedroom, barging in without even knocking.

"I need your car."

Jeff just looks up with a quizzical look on his face, "What?"

"Your car, I need it, where are the keys?"

"Why?"

"I need to go back, Jeff, c'mon!" Harry flails his hands around aimlessly while Jeff seemingly moves like a snail.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jeff asks, reaching for his jeans on the floor.

" _Yes_!"

"Alright, alright. Just call us when you get there, okay?" He hands Harry the keys.

"Promise, thank you!" Harry says, already moving for the door. "Oh, and happy new year!" he calls, then he's gone, taking his phone with him for the GPS.

 _Please, don't get me lost, please, don't get me lost_ , he prays  over and over as he gets in the car.

\---

Harry manages to get out of the city, and relatively close to the Malik manor without getting turned around. He knows he's getting close because his phone's signal gets weaker and weaker as he starts recognizing the landscape. It feels like he's driving aimlessly for awhile and he worries he may have gotten lost after all until he finally sees the Malik manor in the distance. He presses down on the gas pedal then, driving as fast as he can without risking his safety on the icy roads.

Harry parks the car in front of the house; it’s admittedly not his best parking job. The sound of the tires on the gravel driveway loud enough to get Liam to come running out through the front door as Harry climbs out of the car.

"You came back!"Liam cheers, clearly surprised. It makes Harry smile, even through his nervousness. His heart is beating so fast.

"I did. Where is Zayn?" Harry asks, already brushing past Liam into the foyer.

"He’s in his room. Been there since you left," Liam says, trailing behind as Harry basically sprints towards Zayn's bedroom.

"Wish me luck!" Harry says, waving to the confused faces of the staff as he passes by them. He can’t even see clearly as he walks up the main stairs, two steps at a time until he's standing right in front of Zayn's bedroom door. The door is closed, like Harry thought it would be. The nerves hit him all at once as he stares at it and tries to take a few calming breaths. He has no idea as to what he's going to say to Zayn, or if he should knock or just barge in; he doesn't know what to do at all. Well, here goes nothing, he thinks, and slowly turns the doorknob. It's unlocked for which, Harry is thankful. He opens the door quietly, and squints into the darkness inside the room.

The curtains are drawn shut only a few strings of light coming in. Harry notices a mess of papers laying around on the floor. Some are crumpled and he can see some are drawn on but he can’t make out what exactly is on them.He looks around and easily makes out a Zayn-shaped lump on the bed under the covers. His heart skips a beat, he swears.

Being this close to Zayn again might just kill him.

Harry closes the door behind himself and toes off his shoes, letting his coat fall to the floor as he makes his way to the bed. All of his nervousness from the hallway leaves him and it's like he's on autopilot instead. Like he sees Zayn and his body knows what to do without him having to think about it.

Harry pulls the covers back and slides in bed behind Zayn, getting close to him under the covers. He wraps his arm around Zayn's middle and presses his nose to the back of Zayn's neck. It settles him all at once, it feels like he's come home again.

Zayn moves closer to Harry in his sleep pressing back against his body and sighing softly. Then, Zayn’s breath hitches and Harry can feel his muscles tense as he jolts awake. Zayn sits up, and turns to face Harry. He looks so tired, like he hasn't slept properly in days. He probably didn't. Even with dark circles and scruff, he looks _so_ lovely. So exactly like everything Harry wants, has ever wanted.

"Harry?" he whispers in disbelief.

"Hey," Harry whispers back, sheepishly.

"You're really here?" Zayn asks, reaching out to touch Harry's face with his fingertips. Harry smiles, takes Zayn's hand in his and presses a kiss to it.

"I'm here. C'mon, lets sleep for a bit," Harry says, tugging Zayn back down with him. Zayn lets him, like he's too shocked and too exhausted to deny Harry anything. Harry takes advantage of it, and wraps Zayn in his arms pulling him tight against himself.

"You're really here? You're staying?" Zayn whispers. He sounds so small and unsure and it's almost enough to break Harry's heart.

"Yeah, I'm here," Harry says holding Zayn closer still. "Sleep now, okay? We'll talk later," he says, kissing the top of Zayn's head. Zayn looks like he wants to object but he gives in, throwing his arm around Harry's middle and burrowing his face against Harry's neck.

"Please still be here when I wake up," Zayn says in the same small voice as he gives in to the weight of his eyelids.

"I'll be here, don't worry."

\---

When Harry wakes up, Zayn is not in bed anymore.

Harry feels a bit disoriented. The room is now completely dark and, for a second there, he doesn't know where he is. Then, the bathroom door opens and light floods the room as Zayn comes through the door. Harry turns the bedside lamp on and Zayn turns the bathroom light off, walking towards the bed. He's still sleep-soft but his eyes don't seem to be as tired as before. He smiles and Harry finds himself smiling back without even thinking, his heart rate picking up.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Zayn says. He sits on the edge of the bed, seemingly conscious about being too close to Harry now that he's awake enough and thinking clearly. Harry shakes his head at him, still smiling.

"It's okay. You looked like you needed to sleep more than I did."

Zayn lets out a soft chuckle, and nods, "Yes... Guess I haven't slept so much for the past few days,"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Zayn says immediately, reaching for Harry's hand. He runs his thumb over Harry's knuckles, traces Harry's fingers with his, then looks up at him again. "Why did you come back?" he asks, almost reluctantly.

Harry frowns, he thought it would be obvious. "For you, of course."

"You barely took any time to think, Harry, how can you be so sure?"

"I've took time enough. If all of this is true, and you really are, like, my soulmate, how could I ever be happy with anyone else? Thinking of you and missing you was all I did for the past few days. I don't want to do that for the rest of my life, imagine what we could have had. I just want to be with you." Zayn keeps looking at Harry, assessing him and Harry tries his best to put on his most assertive face on. He wants this. He wants _Zayn_.

Zayn squeezes Harry's hand an earnest look in his eyes. "Are you sure?" he asks, one more time.

Harry ends up rolling his eyes, and takes Zayn's hand in both of his own. "I've never been so sure about anything in my life," Harry says, bringing Zayn's hand to his lips, and kissing it once. "Now, can you, _please_ , just kiss me?"

Zayn laughs at that with his nose scrunching up,and his tongue poking out. Harry thinks he might fall even more in love. Zayn moves closer with laughter in his eyes and across his lips. Harry just needs to taste it, it’s all he can think of. He moves closer, taking Zayn's face in his hands and, finally, pressing their lips together. Harry feels Zayn still smiling against his lips and it makes Harry smile too. They pretty much just smile into each other's mouths for a full minute until Zayn grabs on to Harry's face as well and kisses him properly.

Zayn's lips are soft and warm just like the first time they kissed but this time it feels so much better. Now that they know where they stand, now that this is real, and it's forever; or as long as they have each other.

Harry moves his hands down Zayn's back, over his waist and pulls him closer as he leans back until he's laying down and Zayn is on top of him. Zayn goes easily, moves with Harry like they're one and straddles his thighs. Zayn let's go of Harry's face to hold on to his hair instead and deepens the kiss.He licks into Harry's mouth just like Harry's been dreaming about for a month now. Harry moans with it, runs his hands over Zayn's chest, his waist, his thighs, everything he can get his hands on.

Harry slides his hands under Zayn's shirt, up his back, as Zayn takes Harry's lip between his teeth with a satisfied hum. They're both too breathless, too quickly but Harry can’t even care, he never wants to stop it's so good. It's never been like this before, for him, this charged and all consuming. Harry fully whines when Zayn pulls away and he's not embarrassed at all by his desperation.

"Is this too fast?" Zayn gasps, still pressing kisses to Harry's skin; his chin, his cheek, his jaw, like he can't stop himself.

Harry is quick to shake his head, "No way, I've been dreaming about this for way too long," he says, moving down to kiss Zayn's neck. He sobers up a bit, then, and pulls back, "Unless it's too fast for you? We don't have to do anything, we'll go as far as you want tonight."

"It's just--" Zayn says, pressing his face against Harry's neck, "It's been like, you know. Awhile. For me. I'm not--I might not be so good."

"Zayn," Harry coos, cradling Zayn's jaw in his hands, "Whatever we do, it'll be perfect. Let's slow down a bit, yeah? And if it gets to that... Well, we'll get there. Sound good?" Zayn smiles down at him and nods. "Good," Harry nods as well and brings Zayn's face down for another kiss.

He moves slowly now, runs his thumbs over Zayn's jaw and feels the stubble under his fingertips. He sucks Zayn's bottom lip into his mouth and rolls them over so he's on top, thinking Zayn might feel less overwhelmed.

It seems to work, as Harry feels Zayn relaxing under him, feels him running his hands up Harry's back, lifting Harry's shirt up with it.  Harry pulls away to take it off. Zayn stops him from moving closer, as soon as he does, and Harry pouts. Slowly, he understands why. Zayn's never seen him without a shirt on before. Harry lets him take his time looking. Zayn places his palms on Harry's stomach, touches the tattoo there, then slowly makes his way up with light touches. Harry closes his eyes and sighs when Zayn circles on his nipples with his thumb, so Zayn does it again, this time with both thumbs. When Harry looks down at him, he's looking up at Harry with mischief and curiosity in his eyes.

"You're going to be the death of me," Harry says. Zayn just laughs, the cheeky bugger, and Harry needs to kiss him, he's too adorable when he's laughing not to be kissed. "My turn?" Harry asks when he pulls away, smiling. Zayn nods, and sits up so Harry can pull his shirt off. Harry does so slowly because he's dreamed about this for too long, he wants to savor it.

No matter how slowly he does it, nothing could have prepared him enough. Harry knows Zayn is smaller than him in many ways, shorter and skinnier but Harry sees now that it's all muscle. He feels it too, as he touches Zayn; how strong he feels under Harry's palms even if it feels like his hands could wrap around Zayn easily. Harry was right before, there are a lot more tattoos here, his whole right arm covered in ink, part of his left, and a few on his hips and across chest. Harry wants to learn each of their stories and taste them all. He leans in, and kisses the right wing on Zayn's chest, then the left, and then the red lips in between them.

Zayn is pliant beneath Harry, letting him explore as he feels like it. His hands find their way to tangle in Harry's hair. Zayn cards his fingers through it, pushes Harry's hair out of his face and smiles down at Harry, soft and so adoring, it makes Harry's heart fucking sing.

Harry keeps moving down, tasting Zayn's chest with his lips and tongue, pressing his smile into Zayn's skin. He sucks a bruise over the heart tattooed on Zayn's right hipbone, then bites over the writing on the left and Zayn's fingers tighten in Harry's hair.

"S'it good?" Harry asks, looking up at Zayn. Zayn's cheeks are slightly flushed, his hair messed up from sleep and Harry's hands and Harry just wants so much. Zayn nods down at him and Harry grins, licks a stripe down Zayn's navel just to hear his breath hitch and feel the muscles in his stomach contract. "Can I keep going?" he asks, slowly hooking his fingers in the waistband of Zayn's sweatpants.

"Uh-huh." Zayn nods again, licking his lips and closing his eyes. Harry starts pulling Zayn's sweatpants down, breath caught in his chest, and heart beating so loud he thinks Zayn might hear it, and Jesus Christ, Zayn's not wearing any underwear.

Once the sweatpants are off fully, Harry just has to sit back on his haunches, and stare. Stare, because there is no way to just look at someone as beautiful as Zayn, bare and wanting, hard and wet against his stomach. Harry thought he knew what he was getting into when he started this but now he has no idea where to begin, his brain short-circuiting with how many things he wants to do with, and to, Zayn.

"Harry," Zayn rasps, chuckling and covering his face with his hands, starting to curl in on himself in shyness. Harry snaps back to the moment, placing his hands on Zayn's thighs to stop him.

"Sorry, m'sorry, s'just. You're so beautiful. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" Harry says, moving his hands up Zayn's thighs and leaning in to press a kiss to the inside of Zayn's knee. "So gorgeous," he keeps going, kissing the inside of Zayn's thigh, up and up, nibbling on the soft skin there. Zayn doesn't say anything but he's smiling when Harry looks at him and his fingers find their way back into Harry's hair.

Zayn is watching him when Harry takes him in his hand and his lips part on a sharp intake of breath when Harry takes him in his mouth, fingers tightening in Harry's hair. Zayn doesn't push, though. Seemingly content to watch as Harry hollows his cheeks around him and takes more of him into his mouth. Zayn watches Harry until he can't anymore, until it gets too much far too soon, and he tilts his head back, lets it rest against his pillow.

It's been so long since Zayn's done this with anyone, and to be doing it with Harry, finally, it's a bit overwhelming, everything is so good. Harry seems to be enjoying it as well, keeps humming around Zayn, his big hands curled over Zayn's thighs, squeezing them each time he takes Zayn in a little deeper.

And Harry is enjoying it, he really is. Zayn's smell and taste driving him crazy, the feel of Zayn on his tongue, and the sound of Zayn' labored breaths and moans going straight to his cock. Zayn pulls him off sooner than Harry would've liked, though, and Harry frowns at him.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, his voice already a little hoarse.

"Nothing, I'm just. I'm going to...if you keep..." Zayn says, a bit breathless, and Harry grins at seeing Zayn losing it like that. Zayn is nowhere near as talkative as Harry but he's always been very articulate. Seeing him stuttering like this makes something in Harry's chest swell with pride, knowing he was the one to get Zayn like that.

"Oh?" Harry says against the skin of Zayn's stomach and Zayn grabs him by the hair and pulls him up for a kiss.

"Can we...?" Zayn breathes into Harry's mouth when they pull apart, looking at Harry with those big hazel eyes a bit dazed and unfocused. Harry nods dumbly, because how the hell could he not, and kisses Zayn again, fiercely.

"Are you sure?" Harry asks, just to be safe. Zayn nods, and Harry does too, trying to draw in a calming breath, otherwise he might pass out just from thinking about it, and that wouldn't be sexy at all. "D'you have anything?"

"Actually, hm," Zayn clears his throat, "Louis, he, hm, went out and got it awhile back," he explains shyly.  He disentangles himself from Harry to reach into his bedside drawer.

"How thoughtful of him," Harry teases to lighten the mood, as he tries to get out of the rest of his clothes. He feels nervously excited but at ease all at once. Nervously excited because this is new and if feels like such a huge moment. It also feels good, though, like he can do no wrong, like this is where he's meant to be, here, with Zayn, for the rest of their lives.

Harry is about to ask Zayn how he wants to do it, when Zayn offers him the lube, and a condom, cheeks even more flushed than before. Harry tries to swallow past the lump in his throat and nods, taking both from Zayn's hands, kissing him slowly. He sets the condom aside, and coats his fingers, before hovering over Zayn again. Zayn smiles and gives him an encouraging nod, pulling Harry down for another kiss. He spreads his legs so Harry can settle between them and moves his hands down Harry's sides, all the way to his hips, pulling Harry even closer.

Harry touches the inside of Zayn's thigh with slippery fingers as they kiss, hand moving up, fingers slipping between Zayn's cheeks. Zayn whines into Harry's mouth as Harry slowly pushes a finger in, his body tensing up for a moment, Zayn's fingers tight on the meat of Harry's hips. Harry pulls away and kisses the corner of Zayn's mouth, then his cheek, his nose, and it makes Zayn smile again, gets him to relax.

It's easy after that, Zayn's body giving way for one finger, then another, and another. They kiss all through it, if not each other's lips, then each other's necks, jaws, collarbones, anywhere and everywhere. Zayn runs his hands all over Harry's body until he finally settles with one hand wrapped around Harry's cock and another in his hair. Harry can't stop the noises coming out of him, and Zayn revels in it, twists his fist over the head the way he notices Harry seems to like the most. He licks into Harry's mouth to swallow all of his moans and whines for deep in his throat.

Sweat is starting to pool at the hollow of Zayn's throat, and gather at his hairline when he finally says, I'm good, and lets out a choked off moan when Harry flicks his wrist just right again and again. Harry gently pulls his fingers out. His hands are shaking as he rips open the condom wrapper and rolls it down on himself, more out of anticipation than anything. Zayn's antsy now, too, both of his hands buried in Harry's hair and his hips rolling up, encouragements and pleas falling from his lips.

Harry feels like he might explode from want and need but also from so much fucking love, he realizes; It stuns him enough to pause and stare at Zayn.

Zayn frowns beneath him, he pauses too, "What's wrong?"

"I just realized... I really, _really_ love you, y'know?" Harry says, with possibly the biggest and stupidest smile on his face.

Zayn can only laugh, because of course Harry would have a revelation seconds before sex is supposed to be happening but, also, because he feels so good and so happy;he doesn't remember ever being this happy before.

"Really?" Zayn asks with a matching grin and Harry rolls his eyes.

"You're supposed to say you love me back, Zayn," he whines. Zayn pushes Harry's hair out of his face and smiles, the _you're-silly-but-I-like-you-either-way_ , the one that Harry likes the best.

"I can't even begin to tell you how much I love you, Harry. Not even the words of the greatest writers out there could describe it and our story is definitely one for the books." Zayn adds with a more playful smile, "But I'll try to show you just how much everyday, if you'll let me."

Harry is going to die, he's so happy. His heart is ready to burst. He's going to marry the shit out of Zayn someday.

"I'm going to marry the shit out of you someday," he says out loud because he's gone happy dumb and horny dumb and, overall, stupidly stupid. Zayn laughs and shakes his head even though he looks absolutely delighted.

"You're awful."

"You love me."

"I do," Zayn nods, smiling.

"Good," Harry nods too.

"Good," Zayn repeats and brings Harry down for a kiss. Harry melts into it, intoZayn; their lips, chests, and hips pressed together. Zayn wraps his legs around Harry's hips, pulling him closer, and whispering, come on, come on, against his lips. Harry draws his hips away then back and starts to press in slowly, carefully, watching Zayn's face intently. He’s enraptured as Zayn closes his eyes and his head tips back, his face more gorgeous than ever.

Harry chokes on air as he bottoms out. He can't look at Zayn anymore, otherwise that'll be it for him, so he hides his face against Zayn's neck and holds himself very still, as still as he can. Zayn moves his hands down Harry's back, blunt nails leaving red traces in their wake, all the way down to Harry's ass, where he squeezes, trying to pull Harry further in. Harry wants to cry it's so good.

"Look at me, love," Zayn whispers in Harry's ear, breathes, more like. He sounds wrecked already, as wrecked as Harry feels. Harry props himself on his forearms to do as he is told and Zayn smiles at him when he does. "There you are," he says. He touches Harry's face, and squeezes his legs around him, nodding, just once.

Harry starts moving, starts rocking them slowly, mesmerized by Zayn's face because Zayn keeps looking at him like he's the most amazing thing he's ever seen, his eyelashes fluttering when Harry snaps his hips forward. Zayn traces Harry's bottom lip with his thumb and he moans when Harry's tongue darts out to lick it, so Harry wraps his lips around it and sucks just to get Zayn to moan again.

And he does. Fuck, Zayn moans again and Harry can't stop then, even though there's no way he'll last, he starts moving faster; long, deep strokes getting sharper, their breathing heavier. Zayn moves his hand from Harry's face to the back of his neck and tangles his fingers in Harry's hair, his grip tightening the more wound up he gets, his other hand digging into the muscles of Harry's back.

"Oh god," Zayn groans when Harry shifts his hips a bit and hits him just right, so Harry keeps aiming for that same spot with every thrust.

"You close?" Harry grits out, so almost there.

"Yeah," Zayn gasps, nodding, eyes closed.

"Touch yourself for me, wanna see how you do it. Wanna see you come," Harry pleads, trying to hold off for as long as he can, needing to see Zayn fall apart first.

Harry rests his forehead against Zayn's and looks down to where their bodies meet just in time to see Zayn curling his fingers around his cock. He strokes himself in time with Harry's thrusts, precome and sweat making it slick and the slide easier. It doesn't take too long for the pleasure building within him to unravel. Harry only manages to last through Zayn's orgasm until he's coming too, his whole body shivering with the force of it, his heart beating fast like he's just run a marathon.

Harry tries not to but ends up collapsing on top of Zayn. Zayn lets out an oof and a breathy chuckle but he doesn't make Harry move just pets his back and hair and kisses his face until their breathing gets regular again. They're sweaty and could probably use a shower but Harry doesn't think he can move. He doesn't really want to, if he's honest. He even tells Zayn so, mumbles it into the skin of his neck then kisses it just because it's right there and it's such a pretty neck.

"I can't either, especially when you're using me as a mattress," Zayn laughs, pushing Harry's hair back from his face.

"Sorry," Harry says with a laugh too, though he's not sorry at all. He does roll off of Zayn though, finds enough strength to deal with the condom, and to get his shirt from the edge of the bed so they can clean themselves haphazardly. Then, he pulls Zayn closer for a cuddle and sighs sleepily.

"We should sleep, then get some food, then do this all over again," Harry says, feeling his eyelids getting heavier by the second.

"Sounds like a plan," Zayn says, sounding as sleepy and as sated as Harry is.

"Ok, then, I'm going to sleep now," Harry announces, rubbing his face on Zayn's neck to get more comfortable, sighing when he's satisfied. "I love you," he yawns and manages to stay awake for long enough to hear Zayn saying it back then, he falls asleep with a smile on his face, completely wrapped up in Zayn.

\---

They sleep until it's lunch time when Louis starts banging on the door demanding to know if they're still alive. They shower together (after reassuring Louis that, yes, they're alive, and more than well), kissing and touching each other whenever they can simply because they just can't stop themselves. When they finally join everyone in the dining room Harry is wearing one of Zayn's biggest sweaters because he forgot to pack in his haste to get to Zayn.

Everyone stares at them when they walk in and after a few seconds of stunned silence, the whole room erupts in a chorus of cheers. Zayn just smiles at them, happy and fond, and Harry can't help but smile too. People take turns congratulating them, and telling Harry they're happy he's back. Brooklyn and Lux present him with scribbles and drawings, Lux babbling about what she did while Harry was away, and Brooklyn making baby noises managing to get a few words out, here and there.

Zayn takes a seat next to Harry at the table and they listen to everyone as they talk, laughing when Niall suggests that they celebrate both the fact that Harry and Zayn “with all due respect, got their head out of their asses”, and the new year that just started. Everyone seem to like that idea and soon enough the dining room is alive and loud as they decide on a menu and song suggestions for Niall to play at their party.

Harry doesn't say anything not just yet. He takes a moment to look around the table instead, taking in all the happy faces he's come to know and love over the past few months. And of course, he ends up looking at Zayn last, who is already watching him right back with a smile on his face, one that's both peaceful, and delighted. He squeezes Zayn's knee under the table and leans in for a kiss that's chaste and sweet. When he pulls away, he's smiling too, matching Zayn's smile perfectly.

It feels good to be home.


	2. Epilogue

Harry and Zayn have been together for a year, and seven months, now. One year, and seven months since Harry came back on New Year's Eve. They don’t count when Harry entered the Malik manor at the beginning of that winter with no idea of what was waiting for him; Of _who_ was waiting for him.

They live in London, now, have been living there for almost an entire year, in a flat that was given to them by Zayn's parents. Harry was a bit reluctant to accept it at first but he's come to realize that the Maliks don't do small, or cheap when it comes to presents. They've got money practically coming out of their ears, money that isn't going to go away anytime soon. They don't mind spending it on their kids either, not at all.

Zayn still paints, though it's more of a hobby now. He decided to open his own art gallery and now, he discovers new artists for a living. And he's good, too, everything he touches sells, people love him. Harry is only a little bit jealous. Harry works with Zayn, by the way, helps him run the gallery by taking care of the technicalities and doing most of the socializing during parties and openings. Even though Zayn's a lot more social now than he was, years upon years or seclusion have left him a little rusty.

It's all very good, they're a great team, complimenting each other perfectly. Zayn calms Harry, grounds him. He helps him focus on his goals and teaches him to be patient. Harry makes Zayn push his limits, try new things. He reminds him to open up to people, and the world, because everyone should be aware of how lovely and smart and funny Zayn really is.

Except, of course, when he's just woken up. Then, Zayn is pretty much a zombie, communicating through a lot of mumbling and groaning. He hangs himself on Harry's back a lot, following Harry around the flat with his arms around Harry's middle. Harry thinks it's absolutely endearing even when he's late for work and Zayn won't let go of him. It's one of his favorite versions of Zayn; right after focused-on-his-paintings Zayn, cuddly-sunday-afternoon Zayn, and sexy-smirky- _I'mtryingtogetyouintobed_ Zayn. Goofy Zayn is another one of his favorites. And then, there's art-savvy Zayn and smiley-with-family-members Zayn and-- well, every Zayn is Harry's favorite Zayn, if he's honest.

They still see most of the people who worked for the Maliks even though some of them have moved away in an attempt to start living their lives for real.

Liam and Louis moved to Manchester to go to uni, and Niall decided to travel the world for a while. The boys visit Zayn and Harry whenever they can while Niall sends them postcards every time he gets to a new place. Caroline opened a high end beauty salon while Lou started her own catering business. Zayn and Harry babysit for them pretty much once a week, which they love. They are always happily surprised to notice how much the girls have grown. Harry's heart aches every time he notices how great Zayn is with kids, he can't wait for them to have one, or two (probably two), of their own.

They haven't talked about it yet but Harry knows it will happen eventually. For now, their kids are a puppy named Bruce and a cat named Harleen; it's enough. They're happy. Like, stupidly so. Harry still hasn't forgotten what he said about marrying the shit out of Zayn someday and he's already gotten a ring and everything. It’s hidden in his sock drawer just waiting for the right moment.

One night, Harry comes home from the gallery and immediately hears music coming from the makeshift studio Zayn made out of one of the spare rooms. The Weeknd, Harry realizes. After they got together, Harry made it his mission to expose Zayn to everything, all sorts of music genres, and movie genres, and Zayn took a particular liking to modern R&B.

Harry drops his keys in the bowl they keep by the door, shrugs off his coat, and toes off his shoes, undoing the cuffs of his shirt as he walks to the studio. He pauses by the door and just watches Zayn for a moment, takes in his messy hair, and how he's wearing Harry's sweatpants, the ends rolled up to fit him better. Harry loves that he can do this, now; that he's allowed to watch as Zayn paints. He even has his own armchair in the corner of the room, so he can read or work there if he wants to while Zayn creates art.

It doesn't take too long for Zayn to notice him there, he always does. He smiles at Harry and says, "You're home." Harry's heart melts. It's ridiculous, honestly, how many times a day Harry falls in love with Zayn, over and over. He falls so easily, Zayn only needs to smile, or kiss his cheek, or touch his neck and Harry turns into a puddle on the floor.

"Hi." Harry smiles and steps into the room, making his way to Zayn, wrapping his arms around him from behind with a sigh.

"How was work?" Zayn asks, placing a hand on top of Harry's across his stomach and continuing to paint with the other.

"Good." Harry kisses the back of Zayn's neck, then his shoulder, "Missed you, though."

"Aw, sorry, love. Got a bit distracted," he says, motioning towards the painting in front of him.

Harry looks at it, hooking his chin over Zayn's shoulder, "Looks good."

"Does it?" Zayn squints at it, unsure.

"'Course," Harry nods and kisses Zayn's neck one more time, "m'gonna take a shower."

"Alright. There's food in the kitchen, if you're hungry."

"Nah, already ate but thanks," Harry says, and gives Zayn's tummy a pat, pulling away. Zayn doesn't let him get away, though; he grabs Harry by his wrist and pulls him back with a grin, stretching up to kiss him, slow and deep. Harry is lightheaded when they pull apart, and Zayn is smirking like he knows what he did.

"I'll finish this up and meet you in a bit," he says, still smirking.

"Okay," Harry nods, a bit dumbly and leaves Zayn up to his things.

True to his word, Zayn joins him in the shower and picks up right where they left off, pulls Harry apart his his lips, and clever fingers. When they fall in bed, skin still wet, Harry is on his stomach and Zayn pushes into him whispering praises and I love you's against his skin. There's nothing Harry can do but hold on to the sheets for dear life. Sometimes being with Zayn is so overwhelming, in the best, most wonderful way.

Later, they lie together and Harry traces Zayn's face with his fingertips, smooths Zayn's left eyebrow then the right one, traces the bridge of his nose then his lips. Zayn watches Harry, his own fingers moving down Harry's side like he's playing the piano, pressing his fingers in an unknown, calming rhythm. They don't talk for a long moment and, surprisingly, it doesn't bother Harry at all. He used to hate the silence, couldn't stop tripping over himself to say something but with Zayn, it's just peaceful. It makes him think about that line in that movie, Pulp Fiction, when they say " _That's when you know you've found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence._ "

Harry holds Zayn's face and presses their lips together. Suddenly, he can't stop thinking about the ring sitting inside his sock drawer.

"If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?" Harry blurts out before he knows what he's doing.

Zayn snorts, "Is this your way of proposing, love?"

"No, shut up, I'm tired. But would you?"

Zayn looks at him like he wants to laugh but he doesn't. "Yes," he says, instead.

"Really?"

Zayn does laugh at that, nodding,"Of course. I would've said yes if you'd asked all those months ago when you came back, even."

"Okay, good, hold that thought, then," Harry says and jumps out of bed, still naked. He rummages through the drawer until he finds the small black box and goes back to bed. Zayn's sitting up by then, watching Harry with an amused look on his face.

"So you really are proposing, then?"

"I am now," Harry says, sitting next to Zayn. "I was trying to wait for the perfect moment, but--it's like you said, right? Fate," he says, and Zayn nods, expectant. "No matter how long I wait, or plan, or--it'll always come down to this, to us, together. I don't want to wait anymore. And I did tell you I was going to marry the shit out of you someday, so," Harry adds with a laugh, trying not to sound as nervous as he truly is. "Will you marry me?" He finally asks, a bit embarrassed about how hopeful he sounds. He doesn't think Zayn will say no but, still. It's a big deal.

"Yes," Zayn nods, his face splitting into a huge grin and his eyes shining bright.

"Yeah?" Harry asks, breathless, relief and joy washing over him. He launches for Zayn who's still nodding, takes his face in his hands and kisses him everywhere, sometimes catching his lips but mostly just his cheeks and eyes and forehead.

"Come on, give me my ring," Zayn laughs as they pull away and he thrusts his hand in Harry's face. It's a bit shaky, like Harry's are but he manages to get the ring on the right finger. Zayn kisses him again after, laughing against Harry's lips. Harry is faintly aware of how silly they must look, bare assed and barely managing to kiss but he doesn't care.

Harry wasn't one to believe in fate or soulmates before this, before Zayn. He is so happy to have been proven wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts:  
> 1: Soulmate aspects AU- Zayn wakes up one morning and feels a compulsion to sketch out a face he doesn’t remember seeing before (...)  
> 2: Beauty and the Beast AU- Zayn shuts himself away from the world His sister/mum is the only family member to visit him because he’s grown so reclusive. She hires a housekeeper for him for the winter since she won’t be able to come keep an eye on him- arranging a room off the main part of the estate house for this person, aka Harry (...)  
> 3: One of them is eternally young. They go through life alone because it’s easier than meeting people but then one day they meet the other and they swear they’ve met before- too long ago. Maybe the other is immortal as well, maybe it’s reincarnation. Soulmate/soul-bonding aspects would be great but are not necessary.
> 
> Hopefully this had everything you wanted, love.


End file.
